#the shots into the dark to keep the rent low

[hakusins]

fire those rounds, lower the rent, scare the puritans, i give you consent

cw // mentions of kinks

haha i can't believe i made it - i hope you can read my shitty handwriting now if you excuse me. *buries myself into the sand for the next 20 years*

edit: FUCK I FORGOT BREEDING KINK-

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Brat and Slut ✞⛧

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dominance/submission, rough sex, fingering, degradation, name-calling, power play, physical aggression, graphic language, intense emotions, violence, strong language, non-consensual elements (in role-play context), mature content

Word count: 2.1k

The air in the room was thick with tension, the kind that crackled like static before a storm. Vi’s light gray eyes bore into you, sharp and unyielding, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscles flexing beneath her skin. Her magenta hair, choppy and uneven, framed her face with wild abandon, the shaved side only adding to her fierce, untamed energy. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the anger rolling in waves as she stepped closer, her boots thudding heavily against the floor.

“You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?” Vi snarled, her voice low and dangerous. Her fingerless bandages gripped the edge of the table beside her, her knuckles white from the pressure. The tattoos on her arms seemed to pulse with her anger, the dark gray ‘vi’ on her cheek standing out starkly against her fair skin.

You didn’t back down. You never did. “Yeah, I do,” you shot back, your voice steady but laced with defiance. “Because I do own this place. Or did you forget who’s in charge here? I pay the fuckin rent.”

Vi’s lips curled into a sneer, the scar on her upper lip pulling taut. “In charge? That’s rich coming from someone who couldn’t even handle herself in a fight without me.” She took another step forward, her chest nearly brushing against yours. The scent of leather and sweat filled your nostrils, a heady mix that only fueled the fire burning between you.

“Handle myself?” you scoffed, tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Last I checked, you were the one who needed saving. Or did that little scar on your brow come from tripping over your own damn boots?”

Her eyes flashed, a mix of rage and something else—something hotter, darker. Without warning, she shoved you hard, the force of her push sending you stumbling back until your spine hit the wall. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, but you recovered quickly, your own hands shooting out to grab her by the shoulders and slam her back against the opposite wall.

Vi grunted, the sound low and guttural, but she didn’t fight it. Instead, she leaned into the pressure, her body pressing against yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. Her breath was hot against your skin, her chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping her anger in check.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” she hissed, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury. Her hands moved to your hips, her fingers digging into your flesh with a grip that bordered on painful.

“And you’re a damn brat,” you shot back, your own hands sliding up to clutch at the fabric of her jacket. You tugged her closer, your bodies now pressed flush against each other, the heat between you almost unbearable. “Always pushing back, always challenging me. Maybe it’s time I put you in your place.”

Vi’s lips curled into a smirk, and for a moment, you thought she might laugh. But instead, she leaned in, her mouth brushing against your ear as she whispered, “You can try.”

The challenge was all you needed. Your hands moved to her collar, yanking her jacket open with a force that sent the snaps flying. She didn’t flinch, her own hands sliding up to your chest, fingers splayed as she pushed you back against the wall again. Her knee came up between your legs, pressing against you with a roughness that made you gasp.

“Like that, huh?” she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. “You always did like it rough.”

“Shut up,” you growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. Her breath hitched, a soft sound that sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. “You talk too much, Vi. Maybe I should do something about that.”

Her eyes darkened, her lips parting as she panted. “Go ahead,” she dared, her voice barely above a whisper. “Make me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your mouth crashed against hers, the kiss hard and unforgiving, teeth and tongues clashing in a battle for dominance. Vi’s hands gripped your hips tighter, her nails digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes. You could feel her body moving against yours, the friction between your legs sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned back just enough to look her in the eye. “You’re always so damn mouthy,” you said, your voice rough with desire. “Maybe it’s time you learned how to keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut.”

Vi’s smirk returned, though there was a glimmer of something else in her eyes—something that looked a lot like anticipation. “Or maybe you’re just scared of what I might say next,” she shot back, her voice laced with defiance.

You growled, your hand moving to her throat, your fingers pressing lightly against her pulse point. “You’re playing with fire, Vi.”

Her breath hitched again, but she didn’t back down. “I’m not the one who’s scared,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Are you?”

The challenge in her voice was all the encouragement you needed. Your hand tightened around her throat, just enough to make her gasp, before you released her and grabbed her by the wrist. You spun her around, pinning her against the wall with her back to you. Her body tensed, but she didn’t fight you, her breathing ragged as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear.

“You’re going to regret pushing me,” you whispered, your voice low and dangerous.

Vi let out a shaky breath, her hands flattening against the wall as she braced herself. “Promises, promises,” she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words. Instead, there was a tension in her body, a readiness that told you she was just as eager for what was coming as you were.

Your hand slid down her side, fingers tracing the curve of her hip before slipping beneath the waistband of her pants. She sucked in a sharp breath, her body arching slightly as your fingers found what they were looking for.

Your finger pressed into her wetness, and Vi’s hips jerked forward, a choked gasp escaping her lips. Her body was already slick, betraying the tension in her muscles, the way she was trying to hold herself still against you. You smirked against the back of her neck, your teeth grazing her skin as you spoke, your voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Look at you, already fucking soaked. And here I thought you were just pissing me off for fun."

Vi’s breath hitched, her fingers clawing at the wall as you pushed two fingers inside her without warning. She let out a raw, guttural moan, her head falling forward as her body tightened around your fingers. Her thighs quivered, and you could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her cunt clenched around you like she was trying to keep you there.

"That’s it, take it," you growled, your voice rough as you began to move your fingers, slow and deliberate, curling them just enough to make her whimper. "You wanted this, didn’t you? All that fucking attitude… just begging for me to put you in your place."

"Fuck you," Vi spat, but her voice was shaky, her defiance crumbling as you added a third finger, stretching her open with a roughness that made her cry out. Her hips rocked back against your hand, desperate for more, even as she tried to deny it.

You laughed, the sound low and cruel, and leaned in closer, your lips brushing against her ear. "You’re such a liar, Vi. You love this. You love feeling how much I fucking hate you right now."

She shuddered, her body betraying her as she ground back against your hand, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You could feel her walls fluttering around your fingers, the way she was teetering on the edge, and you didn’t let up, your pace relentless as you drove her closer and closer to the brink.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

Your free hand grabbed her hip, yanking her back against you, and you ground your own aching cunt against her ass through the rough fabric of your jeans. The friction was almost unbearable, but it only fueled your need, the fire in your belly burning hotter as you fucked her with your fingers and rutted against her like an animal.

"You feel that?" you snarled, your voice thick with lust. "That’s how much I want to ruin you. How much I want to make you fucking scream."

Vi’s hands slammed against the wall, her nails scraping the surface as she tried to steady herself. "You’re a fucking psycho," she choked out, but her voice was laced with something else—something needy, desperate.

"And you’re a fucking mess," you shot back, your fingers curling harder inside her, your thumb pressing against her clit with a bruising force. Her whole body jerked, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she came, her cunt clamping down on your fingers like a vice.

"Again," you demanded, your voice a harsh growl as you kept your fingers moving inside her, your thumb working her clit with brutal precision. Her hips jerked and spasmed, her slick running down her thighs and staining the front of her pants. "You’re not done yet, Vi. Not until I fucking say so."

"Fuck—fuck you!" she screamed, her voice breaking as another orgasm ripped through her, her body shuddering violently as she came again, her cunt pulsing around your fingers. This time, she slumped forward, her forehead pressing against the wall, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

You finally pulled your fingers out of her, and she let out a weak moan, her body trembling as she tried to stay upright. You wiped your hand on her pants, your lips curling into a smirk as you leaned in close, your breath hot against her ear.

"You’re pathetic," you murmured, your voice dripping with disdain. "You think you’re so fucking tough, but look at you now. Shaking like a fucking leaf. Couldn’t even last five minutes."

Vi turned her head to glare at you, her gray eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and lust, and before you could react, she shoved you back with surprising force. You stumbled, but you didn’t fall, your body instinctively bracing for the fight.

"You’re such a fucking bitch," she growled, her voice low and dangerous as she advanced on you, her hands curling into fists. But you could see the way her legs were still unsteady, the way her body was still catching up to her anger.

You smirked, spreading your arms wide. "Come on, then. Show me what you’ve got."

Vi didn’t hesitate. She lunged at you, her hands grabbing the front of your jacket as she shoved you back against the wall. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, but you didn’t care, your hands immediately going to her hips as she pressed her body against yours.

"You think you’re so fucking clever," she hissed, her lips brushing against yours, her breath hot and ragged. "But you’re not the only one who knows how to play rough."

Before you could respond, she kissed you, her lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that made your head spin. Her tongue invaded your mouth, demanding and relentless, and you kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up her back to grab her hair. You yanked her head back, breaking the kiss, and she let out a sharp cry, her eyes blazing as she glared at you.

"Fuck you," she spat, her voice trembling with anger and desire.

"You already did," you shot back, your voice low and dangerous. "And you begged for it."

Vi’s eyes narrowed, and she shoved you back again, her hands fumbling with the button on your jeans. You didn’t stop her, your breath hitching as she pulled them down just enough to expose your aching cunt. Her fingers slid through your slick folds, and you let out a low groan, your head falling back against the wall as she pushed two fingers inside you without hesitation.

"You’re so fucking wet," she muttered, her voice laced with a mix of disgust and awe as she began to fuck you with her fingers, her pace rough and unrelenting.

"Fuck—" you gasped, your hands gripping her shoulders as she curled her fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your knees weak. "You’re such a fucking brat."

"And you’re such a fucking slut," she shot back, her voice sharp as she added a third finger, stretching you open with a roughness that made you cry out cumming and clamping down on her fingers.

[gigabyte-flare]

The Dragon's Respite

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: It's early in the morning of the day that the Midnight Rangers are set to confront the Threnodian threat along side the mysterious Rover. You awake to find your lover restless and you are determined to ease his troubled thoughts.

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Jiyan x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: mostly fluff, very mild angst, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: To say I've been addicted to Wuthering Waves is an understatement. Jiyan has lived rent free in my head since I started the game. I need this man in a way that is concerning to feminism.

And before anyone says anything, yes, I am well aware that Jiyan is not a dragon; it is just incredibly sexy to call him a dragon. Don't at me 🤣

It is the chill of the room that wakes you, realizing you are not wrapped in the embrace of your lover. Your eyes flutter open, the room is dark still, the shades drawn closed to keep out prying eyes. Even so, from behind them, you can see the first signs of the early morning, much to your dismay. You sit up, your eyes scanning the dark room until they settle on the figure sitting at the end of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs, his luscious teal hair disheveled from sleep.

You slowly sit up, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the brush sitting on it. You shift yourself so that you're behind him. With the brush in hand, you begin to comb out the general's hair.

"What's the matter, Jiyan?" you ask, the concern evident in your voice as you continue to brush out his hair, your eyes scanning over the toned muscle of his back, "you're really tense."

"The Retroact Rain will start rising soon," Jiyan replies, rolling his right shoulder, "and when it does, I have to be ready."

You let out a deep sigh, now putting Jiyan's hair up in his signature pony tail, giving you a clear view of the Tacet Mark that runs down his spine. You reach for it, gently dragging your fingers tips down the mark. This elicits a soft sigh from him and you can’t help but smile in response. You then lean forward, placing a soft kiss upon the mark.

Jiyan groans, turning towards you to capture your lips in a tender kiss. He brings his hand up, running his fingers through your hair.

"Are you trying to awaken the dragon, my love?" he asks, the pupils in his golden eyes dilating slightly as he pulls away from the kiss.

You bite your bottom lip, giving Jiyan a playful but knowing look, "perhaps I am…"

A low chuckle emanates from him as he turns his body towards you. You lay yourself back down on the bed as he climbs on top of you, caging you under his body. Your gaze travels down his chiseled form before settling on the noticeable bulge under his grey sweatpants.

"My eyes are up here, love," Jiyan says with a chuckle, gently grasping your chin between his index finger and thumb, coaxing your gaze back to his face, "we'll need to be quick."

His fingers hook into the hem of his sweatpants, quickly removing them as you remove your own pajamas, the two of you now completely nude. Jiyan wastes no time settling his hips between your spread legs. The head of his cock teases your soaked entrance, causing your breath to hitch. Grasping your hips in his hands, he sheathes himself into you with a single thrust. He lets out a low moan as he begins to move his hips, angling his hips so that his cock hits all the right places inside you, making you see stars.

Your fingers latch onto his back, your fingernails digging into his Tacet Mark inadvertently, eliciting a growl from him. His lips devour yours as he begins to pound into you, the head of his member kissing your cervix with each thrust. The heels of your feet dig into the bed as you cry out his name.

"I-I'm… I'm so close, Jiyan--!"

He lets out another chuckle, "oh, I know, love," he leans down to whisper in your ear, "your pretty pussy always flutters around my cock just before I send you into bliss."

That is the catalyst that sends you over the edge and your release gushes around him, pulling another chuckle out of him. He, however, is not finished with you. Looping his arms around your legs, he props them onto his shoulders as he practically folds you in half, strengthening his assault on your throbbing cunt. Overstimulated, tears run down the sides of your face as you cover your mouth with one of your hands, screaming into it as to prevent your cries from being heard by the entire Midnight Rangers camp.

Jiyan's thrusts start to become erratic as he chases his own release. He brings one of his hands up to cup the side of your face, carefully pulling your hand away from your mouth before saying softly, "where do you want me, love?"

"Inside," you plead, your breaths labored as you reach up, grasping the back of his head, "please, Jiyan…"

He smirks at you, his gold eyes boring into yours, "of course, love. I'll give you everything I have."

With a couple more powerful thrusts, he pushes himself inside you as deep as he can go, painting your pussy walls with his hot seed with a loud groan. Sealing his lips over yours, his tongue invades your mouth as his cock continues to throb inside you. You moan into his kiss, your tongue welcoming his as you drape your arms around his shoulders. Breaking away from the kiss, Jiyan rests his forehead against yours, his breaths labored as he comes down from his orgasm. You whimper softly, your body trembling beneath his in the aftermath of your own release.

Jiyan leans back down, giving you another tender kiss, which you happily reciprocate, his fingers combing through your hair as he deepens the kiss. An abrupt knock on the door shatters the blissful moment, causing you to jump; meanwhile, Jiyan lets out an irritated groan.

"General Jiyan!" a male voice calls out from the other side of the door, "your presence is needed, sir! Rover and Yangyang are on their way!"

He props himself up on his hands, slowly unsheathing himself from your warmth. You can feel his cum leak out from you, causing a smile to cross your lips. Jiyan smiles down at you, bringing his hand back up to caress your cheek.

"Do you mind helping me dress?" he asks, the sorrow clear in his golden gaze.

"Of course I don't mind, Jiyan."

Jiyan climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet while you pick up your pajamas off the floor, putting them back on. Meanwhile, Jiyan has begun to dress, putting on his leather pants, boots and the tight black leather tank top; you always loved how it perfectly accentuates his toned chest. The rest of his uniform is piled onto the bed; you pick up the beautiful fabric and help him get it on. It takes several minutes to get the robes of his uniform on, as there are several intricate pieces that have to be placed perfectly. Thankfully for you, this is not the first time you've helped Jiyan put his uniform on, and it certainly won't be your last.

Once he's dressed, you can't help but take a step back to marvel at him; you were always a sucker for a man in uniform. Another chuckle from Jiyan breaks you out of your daze, causing you to blush. Jiyan approaches you, placing his hands onto your hips before kissing you once more as you drape your arms onto his shoulders.

You break the kiss, letting out a soft sigh, "promise you'll come back to me, Jiyan."

"Not even the Threnodian can keep me from you, my love."

He plants one last kiss onto your forehead before turning away from you, walking up to grab his sword that is leaning up against the wall, sheathing it into his belt. He walks up to the door, which automatically slides open from his presence. He stops in the threshold, turning his head slightly to address you once more.

"Don't you worry, love. Victory will be ours."

[deluxewhump]

I Know You Remember Me

John recognizes a wealthy client’s stolen pet immediately, even filthy, with two black eyes. He moves quickly to buy him back from the box truck driver in possession of him, and then must think what to do about this. Meanwhile, he looks after the abused pet in a motel room.

CW: lay it on thick hurt/comfort, pet whump universe (not bbu), caretaker has some ulterior motives but is largely sympathetic, offscreen noncon with multiple whumpers, sti mention, underweight whumpee mention, whumpee offering sex, bruises, burns & cigarette burns, nonsexual nudity and bathing, platonic bed-sharing, medically inaccurate care I’m sure, one shot probably

-

“I know you remember me. I’m sure I remember you.”

The unfortunate creature— for he looked more a creature than a boy in the low light, in the filthy west Texas motel room John had rented for the night with cash— dared to steal a glance up at him.

His eyes were dark, and bright with fear. Bruises ringed both of them like an unlucky fighter, purple as the Easter cloth draped on all the crosses they’d driven past. John knew from the taut look of the eyelids they’d been swollen shut a day or so earlier. The boy pet had dried blood caked in his nostrils and on one side of his downturned mouth. His hair was a matted and filthy mop that fell over his forehead and ears in greasy, wavy sections crusted together with more old blood.

The boy looked at him cautiously. There was too much fear in his posture, in his eyes. It was impossible to tell if he recognized John, too.

John squatted down to be eye level. As he thought it might, this made the frightened pet drop his eyes and flatten his spine as best he could against the nicotine stained paint of the motel wall.

“Hey, now,” John murmured, as if to one of his racehorses. They were spirited, flighty things, nothing like the quarter horses he’d grown up with. He talked to them all the same, though, from the spring colts to the swaybacked veterans.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I know you’ve seen a lot of people lately, huh? You probably don’t remember me. That’s okay. I remember you. You were at Jack Kinsington’s place before all this.”

The boy did not look back up at him, and his dirty hair gave away his trembling, but he was listening.

“I came by with a couple of horses. Bays, both of them. Soaked in sweat and prancing all around, you remember them? They’re high strung, they don’t like to ride in the trailer. Anyway, I told Jack he ought to let you stretch your legs. He did, but you were so numb you couldn’t stand for a while. You looked right at me.”

The boy turned his head an inch, so he could glance up at John’s face again.

“You remember that day. Sure you do. I thought you were in rough shape then, but I have to say, you look worse now.”

That lost him the eye contact. That was okay. The boy remembered. If not his face, then the incident.

“I thought it was awfully cruel to keep you in a space that small,” he went on. “I don’t know how some people do to a person what they wouldn’t do to an animal. They justify it, I guess. They project things onto these pets they buy and then they punish them for it. Gives them their kicks. Even Jack Kinsington, who I have to admit I respected up until that day.”

He stopped that train of thought.

“Why don’t we get you up off the floor there and let me take care of you, huh? No offense, you look kind of like roadkill.”

The boy made no sound, no indication that he’d even heard except for the way his chest expanded a little faster with his quickening breath. The poor thing's heart must be pounding. John had a knack for fixing things up, be it a business his brother had fucked up or a lame horse, a broken water heater or a vehicle. He spent less time fixing things now and more time delegating what other people needed to fix, but this boy was downright hurting his innermost, rarely expressed tenderness of heart, and he wanted to fix something for him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said again. His knees were getting tired in this deep squat, and his boots had no give in the toes for it. “I’m gonna clean you up and look after you. You don’t have to do anything, just don’t fight me too much. Can you do that?”

He reached out and laid a hand over the boy’s. The abused pet flinched but didn’t jerk away. John encircled the boy’s wrist in his hand and pulled it slowly away from his body, towards him. “Can you stand?” he asked, pushing himself to standing and bringing the boy with him.

He made it to his feet, and was nearly as tall as John, but stumbled when he tried to take a step.

“Please,” he whispered reflexively as John moved closer, flinching to protect his battered face.

“Please what, baby?” John muttered, lifting the boy’s arm over the back of his shoulders and wrapping his arm around his slim waist to help him walk. “You’re okay, you’re right here. I’ve got you. Let’s get you in the tub.”

Slowly, they staggered to the motel bathroom a d John flicked on the staggeringly white lights that buzzed and hummed to life. He sat the boy on the lip of the low bathtub as gently as he could.

“I’m going to give you a bath,” he said matter-of-factly, turning the taps so warm water began to fill the tub. “Where did all this blood come from?”

The boy was watching him warily, dark eyes following his every move.

“You hear me? Where’s all this dried blood coming from, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

John nodded, pleased the boy had spoken. Some didn’t, or wouldn’t, he knew, not once they looked like this one did.

“Did they beat you? Is that what all this is from?”

He gave a small nod, blinking in discomfort at John’s bluntness.

“Did they hurt you in any other ways?”

He nodded again.

John felt a tug of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach. “How?”

Jack’s pet looked evasively at the rising bath water.

“If you tell me how you’re hurt, I can help you better.”

Nothing.

“What’s your name?”

“Paulo.”

He put the emphasis on the au, and there was a way he said his L that positioned the tongue differently than he did when saying other words.

“Paulo,” John said, putting the emphasis on the vowels of the first syllable too, but with no attempt at altering his very American L. I’m John. I bought you from that man, the one with the box truck. I take it Jack Kinsington sold you? Or were you stolen?”

Tears shimmered in the boy’s dark eyes, swollen and purple still like a raccoon mask. He bit the inside of his cheek to steel himself and keep from letting them fall.

John gentled his voice. “Paulo. I only ask because it’s important. If you legally belong to Jack, I gotta bring you back to him.”

Paulo’s head snapped up. He lost control of the tears, which spilled down his bruised cheeks. He grabbed hold of John’s sleeves, pulling himself closer as if his whole body was not bruised and sore. “No,” he begged urgently. “Please. I’ll do anything. Please. I-I’ll do anything you want, I can’t… please don’t….”

An idea dawned on him and he let go of his latest captor’s sleeve in order to lift his trembling fingers to his own tattered shirt. He pulled it over his head with a barely-suppressed whimper of pain. His torso was bruised like his face and arms, dark black and purple impact points on his warm toned skin like fists or boots, some that looked like electric burns left from a cattle prod and others more reminiscent of the yellow, oozing wounds cigarettes tended to leave. He was ribby, in a dehydrated, sudden sort of way that looked like he hadn’t eaten much of anything in the last few days.

He started on the button of his pants and John reached out to stop him. “Hey. No. What’s this?”

“Do- do you prefer girls? I can be just as good for you.” His glittering eyes were simultaneously like a starving animal and horribly blank. “They all say so.”

Ah. There was an answer to one of his questions. He pulled Paulo’s wrists away from the opening of his pants, held them in his own on the cool edge of the tub between them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not interested.”

“I could take a bath,” he whispered hopefully.

“You will take a bath. But I’m still not interested. I need to know— were you given to someone by Jack Kinsington rightfully, or were you stolen?”

The fear was back. John didn’t know which was worse on this one, the dead eyes or the fear. “Don’t take me back to him.”

“He hurt you a lot, then? Jack?”

John already figured as much. Despite his admiration for the man’s business sense, he was a cruel and sadistic pet owner. Once he’d seen a boy shoved into a cage fit for a fox, he’d reconciled that much in his mind. It was like that often, when it came to human pets, and never quite who you’d expect.

The boy begged miserably. “Please, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“You mentioned that. He didn’t sell you, did he?”

Paulo glanced down.

So he’d bought a stolen pet. That’s what he more or less suspected when he’d seen the boy at the rest stop, weeks after he’d seen him in the cage at Jack’s and much worse for wear.

Jack Kinsington would probably be even more open to buying more of John’s racehorses in the near future if he returned his favorite boy-pet to him. Don’t worry what it cost to get him back, Jack. Less than the yearling I’ve got for you to look at this spring, I can tell you that. Call it even.

John turned off the taps and tested the water with his fingers. He’d wondered if the boy would be willing to take those filthy clothes off in front of him, but seeing as he’d just offered himself, he thought it more likely now.

“Take those off,” he said of the boy’s remaining clothing. “You can borrow some of mine when you’re cleaned up.”

Despite his offer less than five minutes ago, Paulo was modest to the point of shyness once he was naked.

“It’s okay. I’m not even looking at you,” John assured him a little gruffly as he helped him into the water. “I just want to get you clean.”

Paulo flinched as he submerged, undoubtedly feeling every burn, cut, and bruise as he did. He was so dirty that tear tracks were now visible on his face from his crying. John wet a rough motel washcloth in the warm water and brought it to his face. He dabbed and nudged the dried blood from Paulo’s mouth and nose. The boy tried very hard not to flinch and shy away, and in return he tried to be very gentle. “Good,” he said quietly, wetting the cloth and returning it to the blood and swollen tissue. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Paulo made brief eye contact with him at that, probably because it had become a foreign concept that someone would make an effort against hurting him. Just as quickly he slid his gaze away, back to an indeterminate point on the bathroom tile.

“You wanna do this next part?”

Paulo didn’t answer.

John moved as gently and quickly as was prudent over the rest of his body, knowing he was hurting him when he passed over the yellowed cigarette burns on his legs and hips.

“I know. You’re gonna be okay. Almost done. You’re doing really well.”

Paulo let John wash his hair, using some of the hotel shampoo that would likely sting some cuts but was desperately needed. He closed his eyes as John worked his fingers through the blood and dirt, the snarls coming apart slowly with gentle patience. As he rinsed the boy’s dark hair clean, John noticed he had stopped shaking.

He drained the now red-brown water and wrapped Paulo in a white hotel towel. He looked better clean, though there was nothing to do for the bruises but wait. He sat on the side of the motel bed as John went through his black duffel bag, pulling out sweatpants, a gray cotton T-shirt, and ibuprofen for him.

Paulo dressed in the bathroom and accepted two of the pills. He came out and sat on the end of the bed afterwards, staring at the pattern on the comforter.

“Does Jack know who had you?” John asked as he set up his phone charger. “The guy with the box truck out there?”

Paulo shook his head. “That man wasn’t the first.”

So he’d been bought and sold multiple times since being stolen—kidnapped— from Jack's property. It was possible Jack knew the original perpetrators, but had no idea where his pet was now. John sighed. His mind was working analytically, trying to understand every facet of the situation before he acted— trying to understand how he could manipulate it most in his favor. But that all felt shallow and cruel when he truly saw the boy in front of him, his damp hair and his bruised face, his narrow chest and the way he was nervously picking at a scab on the inside of his wrist.

“Don’t do that,” John said softly. “I don’t want you getting any infections.”

Paulo stopped immediately but looked intrigued by the care in that statement. Likely no one had said anything like it to him in a long while now.

“Are you hungry?”

Paulo shrugged. John raised his eyebrows and he went with a more committed shake of the head. “No, Sir.”

“…Are you scared?”

The boy swallowed, touched the scab on his wrist without picking it.

He’d said it before, but he knew he’d have to say it a hundred more times, and show it a thousand, before it sunk in. He likely would not end up doing that, but he’d say it as long as the pet was in his possession. “I promise I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“What, then?” Paulo asked, shrugging one shoulder to his ear in what felt like embarrassment at his own question.

“If I’m not going to hurt you? What then?”

He nodded.

“Nothing. I'm gonna take you back to Tennessee.”

“To Jack?”

“For the time being, to my place in Lewisburg. I have a farm.”

“What kind of farm?”

“Horses. You wanna come?”

He said he did. Not that he had much of a choice. John suspected they both knew that killing him on the side of a dirt road in west Texas would be better than what might happen if he took him back to Tennessee and failed to promptly return him to Jack. Jack would take it out on his lost little pet as much as he did John.

“I can’t believe you’re still even sitting up and talking. Come here.” John stood up and pulled the corner of the bedsheets down. “Lie down.”

Paulo did as he asked.

Before John would cover him up he asked, “Can you tell me if anyone kicked you in the back or abdomen, or if you feel any pain when you move or breathe?”

He thought about that. “I don’t know. I’m sore.”

“Any sharp pains, anything feel broken?”

“No?”

“Can I touch your stomach right here? It won’t be for long.”

A little apprehensive, Paulo agreed. John placed his hands on his abdomen and prodded his way along, trying to feel anything amiss or to get a sharp yell from Paulo. None came.

“Does this hurt anywhere more than soreness?”

“No,” his patient said in a small voice.

“Okay,” he said, and covered the boy to his chest with the blankets. “I’m done. Thank you. I was worried you might have internal bleeding, or broken ribs.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll need to get you checked for other things too, soon. Make sure you didn’t contract anything.”

It took a moment for this to register, but when it did, Paulo blushed scarlet.

“It’s okay,” John assured him. His next gesture surprised him. Tenderly, he brushed the back of his knuckles to an unbruised spot on Paulo’s cheek. He was quickly becoming endeared to this unfortunate little pet. “You’re probably alright. And even in the event you did, it’s not your fault.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to?” Paulo asked, leaning his cheek almost imperceptibly into John’s knuckles.

John retracted his hand. “No. I didn’t want to because I am not interested in hurting you.”

“I said you could.”

“You and I both know it would still be hurting.”

Paulo laid his head back on the pillow. “I don’t understand what you want.”

“For starters, I want you to tell me what you want to eat.”

He didn’t eat much, but he did make an effort. John got the impression he was suspicious of every simple kindness, every time there were footsteps outside their door in the breezeway.

When he turned out the light and put a partition of pillows between them to sleep, he felt Paulo start awake every time a car pulled into the parking lot, or the AC beneath the window kicked on with a rattle.

“You’re okay,” he said drowsily from across the pillow divide, which made it feel more like bunking together and less like sharing a bed. “Nobody knows you’re here. Nobody knows where you are at all. That door is deadbolted. And I’m here between the rest of the world and you. You can sleep tonight. Nothing can hurt you.”

He doubted words would actually help, since the boy's nerves were probably completely shot, and who knows when was the last time he’d had a good nights sleep, and felt safe enough to do so? Still, he thought it should be nice to hear. It was the least he could do. He didn’t make any undue promises. Just tonight.

Paulo was quiet for a minute, and then John heard a wet sniff that was the unmistakable sound of crying. He didn’t think he should say ‘don’t cry’ to someone in his position, so he didn’t. He just listened from across the pillows until the little pet fell asleep.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

perhaps you could do dave and james in the 90s, fighting over a girl, then she ends up with dave? fluff, smut and dave being all shocked and a bit insecure, considering his past with james? <3

I hope you like it!❤

Stay with me

It started like most nights did back then: music too loud, beer bottles scattered around, and the tang of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. I had always felt a little out of place in their world, like I was straddling some invisible line between awe and mischief. But there I was, caught between Dave and James, two titans of rock, and two men who couldn't be more different if they tried.

James had that easy confidence, the kind of swagger that came naturally to someone who’d been worshipped since his early twenties. He was charming, quick-witted, and devastatingly handsome in a rugged, all-American way. He made flirting seem effortless. Meanwhile, Dave… he was more of an enigma. There was a darkness to him, an edge that could either cut you or pull you in closer. He was magnetic, yes, but also a little volatile. And God, did he know how to brood.

I hadn’t planned on becoming a point of contention between them. Hell, when I first met them, I thought I was invisible in their eyes, just another face in the crowd. But something shifted over time. The way James’ hand would linger on my back when he told a joke. The way Dave’s piercing eyes would track my movements when he thought no one was looking. It was like walking a tightrope between two storms, each one threatening to pull me under in its own way.

It all came to a head one night after a show. The afterparty was winding down, the crowd thinning out until it was just the three of us in the dimly lit living room of some rented house. I was perched on the arm of the couch, nursing the last of my drink, when James sat down beside me, his arm slinging casually over my shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smoke in the air, making my head spin slightly.

“You know,” he drawled, his breath warm against my ear, “Dave’s been staring at you all night. I don’t blame him.”

I glanced over at Dave, who was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before he looked away, his jaw clenching so hard I thought he might crack a tooth.

“I think you’re imagining things,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light, even as my pulse quickened. James’ thumb traced absent circles on my shoulder, and I could feel the weight of Dave’s silence pressing against my chest. The air felt thick with tension, and I wasn’t sure if it was intoxicating or suffocating—maybe both.

“Am I?” James smirked, leaning in closer. His lips brushed against my cheek, dangerously close to crossing a line. My heart was pounding, but before I could decide how to react, Dave’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

I looked up to see him striding across the room, his movements sharp and deliberate. He grabbed James’ wrist, pulling it away from me with more force than necessary.

“She’s not some prize to fight over,” Dave snapped, his voice low and taut with barely restrained anger. His face was flushed, his eyes blazing with something raw and unguarded.

James raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Dave’s reaction. “Calm down, man. Just having a little fun.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should find someone else to have fun with,” Dave shot back, his eyes flicking to me before quickly darting away.

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and for a moment, I thought they might actually come to blows. But then James backed off, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two alone.” He stood, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary before he sauntered out of the room, leaving me alone with Dave.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost deafening. I set my drink down, suddenly hyper-aware of the way Dave was pacing the room, his hand running through his hair in frustration. I could see the strain in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself back, and my heart ached at the sight of it.

“Dave,” I said softly, but he didn’t look at me.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, his voice rough. “James is… well, you know how he is.”

“It’s not James I’m worried about,” I replied, standing and taking a tentative step toward him. “It’s you.”

His head snapped up at that, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside me. “You’ve been acting like… like you don’t even want to be in the same room as me half the time. And then tonight, you… you step in like you…”

“Like I what?” he challenged, his voice rising slightly. There was a sharp edge to his tone, but I could see the vulnerability behind it, the cracks forming in his armor.

“Like you care,” I finished, my voice barely above a whisper.

That seemed to knock the wind out of him. He stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled sharply. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than I’d ever heard it.

“Of course I care,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. “I care so much it’s… it’s fucking terrifying. You think it’s easy watching James flirt with you? Watching him act like he can just… take you, like it’s some kind of game?”

“Dave…”

“No, let me finish,” he said, taking a step closer. “You have no idea what it’s like to… to feel like you’re not good enough. Like someone else is always going to be better, funnier, more… more everything. And then you show up, and suddenly it’s like… like maybe I could have something good for once. But then James swoops in, and I… I don’t know how to deal with that.”

His words hung heavy in the air, raw and unfiltered. My heart ached at the vulnerability etched across his face, the way his usual bravado had crumbled to reveal the man underneath. I swallowed hard, trying to reconcile the man in front of me with the one who had made me feel invisible for so long. "Then why," I asked softly, my voice trembling, "did you make me think you didn’t like me? Why did you pull away like that?"

He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as if he was trying to steady himself. "You don’t get it," he muttered, his voice rough and low. "You think I’ve been acting like I don’t want you around? You’re wrong. I want you here so bad it… it scares the hell out of me."

I froze, his words sinking in like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place. He hesitated, glancing at me before looking away again, his jaw tightening. "I’ve messed up so much in my life, and the thought of screwing this up with you… it’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. Every time I want to say something, I think, 'What if I ruin it? What if I’m not good enough for her?' So yeah, maybe I pull back, but it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much."

His voice cracked on the last words, and he finally looked at me, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that hit me like a wave. I stepped closer, my heart aching for the man in front of me. "Dave, you… you don’t have to be afraid of that," I said softly. "I’m not asking for perfect. I don’t want to be perfect. I just want you. And you don’t have to hold back anymore. I’m here because I want to be. With you."

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Slowly, I saw the tension in his shoulders ease as he took a shaky breath. "You mean that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, stepping even closer until I could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Yeah," I murmured. "I mean it."

You’ve already got my heart, even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

His eyes searched mine, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was so gentle, it made my breath hitch.

Something in him seemed to break then. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as his lips met mine in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and tenderness. It was like he was pouring every unspoken word, every hidden fear, into that moment, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, wanting to show him that he didn’t have to fight for my attention anymore. His lips were soft, yet insistent, and I could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away as he held me close.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. His hands lingered on my waist, grounding both of us in the moment.

“You’re going to have to be patient with me,” he murmured, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. There was a softness in his eyes now, a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.

“Good thing I’m stubborn,” I replied, grinning up at him.

Dave pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on my waist as he gazed into my eyes, the softness in his expression still a little uncertain. His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I think it’s time you go home with me."

I raised an eyebrow, my pulse quickening, though I kept my expression light. "Is that so?" I asked, my lips curling into a grin. "And why would I do that?"

His smile deepened, a mischievous twinkle lighting up his eyes. "Because you’re not the only one who's stubborn. And maybe you deserve to see how things feel when they’re done right."

I chuckled, the sound soft and warm, as the butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly. "You think so?" I asked, my voice more playful than I'd expected it to be.

"Yeah," he murmured, leaning in just enough to brush his lips against my temple. "I think we’re both ready for the next step."

I could hear the sincerity in his voice, but there was also an undeniable shift—a quiet intensity that wasn’t there before. The chemistry between us had always been there, but now it felt like it was almost magnetic, pulling me toward him in ways that left me breathless. It was clear that neither of us was ready to pull back anymore.

I nodded, my lips pressing together as I felt the heat rise in my chest, matching the warmth in his hands. "Alright," I said softly, my voice steady, though my heart was racing. "Let’s go."

Without another word, he led the way, his hand slipping into mine as we left the dimly lit room behind. The air outside was cool against my skin, and I could feel the subtle hum of anticipation building in my veins as we walked to his car. Dave didn’t speak, but I could sense his energy—there was a quiet storm behind those dark eyes, one that seemed to mirror my own feelings.

As the door clicked shut behind us, the world outside seemed to fade away. The air in Dave's house felt heavy with anticipation, every touch between us like a spark, igniting something deeper.

He didn’t waste a second, his lips finding mine again, this time with a hunger that hadn’t been there before. His kiss was slow, deep, as though he was savoring the feeling of me—his hands tracing the line of my jaw, down my neck, sending shivers through me. I could feel the heat building between us, but it was a gentle burn, something that made my breath hitch and my body lean into him, needing more.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses, his lips brushing my cheek, then trailing down to my neck, where his mouth lingered, kissing me softly, tenderly. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like this.”

I closed my eyes, feeling his breath warm against my skin, the feeling of his hands exploring me making my pulse quicken. He slid one hand around to my back, pulling me closer, pressing his chest to mine. My body responded instinctively, my hands threading into his hair, tugging him closer, desperate for more of him.

His lips found mine again, this time with a growing urgency, his kiss deepening, the need between us growing stronger. His hands moved lower, sliding down my sides, grazing the sensitive skin of my waist, making me gasp into his mouth. He pulled away slightly, his eyes dark with desire, but there was something in them—something gentle, like he was asking for permission.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I want to make you feel so good, like you’ve never felt before.”

The way he said it made me shiver, the tenderness mixed with that raw, smoldering heat. I could feel myself melting into him, the tension between us building with every soft touch, every whispered word. I nodded, my heart racing as his hands traced the curve of my waist, then slid slowly up, caressing the sides of my ribs, feeling the rise and fall of my breath.

“I need you,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible, but full of need.

His lips curled into a soft smile, and for a moment, he just looked at me, his hands resting on my hips, grounding me as his gaze softened. “You have me,” he whispered, his voice like a promise.

And then, as if some invisible barrier had been lifted, he moved with a quiet confidence, gently pushing me toward the bed, his lips trailing a slow path from my mouth to my neck, then lower, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin of my collarbone. I gasped, my body arching toward him, urging him on.

“Dave,” I breathed, the sound of his name a plea on my lips. I felt him smile against my skin, his hands slipping under my shirt, slowly lifting it off, his touch burning as he exposed more of my skin to his hungry gaze.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, his fingers grazing the smoothness of my skin, sending sparks of electricity through my body. He kissed me again, softly at first, before his hands moved to my waist, his fingertips brushing the edges of my panties, his touch teasing, making my body hum with anticipation.

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire but soft, full of affection. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine, just enough to leave me aching for more.

I shook my head, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want you, Dave,” I breathed, my voice filled with longing.

The way he looked at me—like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment—was all I needed. He kissed me again, deeper this time, and with a deliberate slowness, he undid the button of my jeans, his fingertips grazing the skin of my stomach as he slowly worked them down my legs. I shivered, not from the cool air, but from the heat of his touch, the way he was making every inch of my skin burn with need.

“God, you’re killing me,” he muttered, his lips trailing down my body, kissing each inch of exposed skin with worshipful tenderness, his hands now exploring me with more confidence. When his lips finally reached the top of my thigh, he paused, looking up at me with a smile that was both devilish and gentle.

“I want to hear you,” he whispered, his voice low, teasing. “Tell me what you want.”

My heart raced, my chest heaving with anticipation. “I want you to touch me… everywhere,” I breathed, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He groaned, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his fingers sliding under the waistband of my panties, teasing me just enough to make me ache for more. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured against me, his voice rough with desire.

And then, he moved lower, his lips and hands tracing every inch of me with an intensity that made my head spin. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, just feeling the warmth of his hands on my skin, the heat of his mouth making my entire body shudder with each tender, possessive touch.

When he finally joined me fully, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the connection between us, the unspoken words, the mutual surrender. His body pressed against mine, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion both tender and full of longing, like he was savoring every second, every moment of us being together.

I kissed him again, this time with all the passion I’d been holding back, and he responded just as fiercely, his hands tracing the curve of my back, holding me close as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

When it was over, the room filled with the sound of our breathing, slow and steady, the intimacy between us palpable. I rested against him, feeling the weight of his arms around me, grounding me, keeping me safe in the afterglow.

As we lay there, the quiet of the room enveloping us, Dave pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. His breath was warm against the back of my neck, the soft thrum of his heartbeat steady and comforting against my skin.

"Stay here," he whispered, his voice rough with the vulnerability that only seemed to surface when he was this close, when we were tangled together like this.

I turned slightly, my eyes meeting his, and saw the softness in his gaze, the intensity of everything unsaid between us. “I’m not going anywhere, Dave,” I whispered back, my voice steady, full of reassurance.

He didn’t say anything at first, but I felt the tension in his body ease as he pulled me closer, as if drawing me into him wasn’t enough. He wanted to make sure I was there, with him, for as long as he could hold me. His lips brushed my forehead gently, the touch tender and almost reverent.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, his voice thick with the weight of the words. “I don’t want this to end.”

I smiled softly, the warmth of his embrace making my chest swell with something that felt like peace. "It doesn’t have to end, Dave. I’m here. I’m right here with you."

With that, he pulled me closer still, his chest rising and falling against my back as he held me, like he was afraid I might slip away if he let go. His hands, gentle but firm, caressed my arms, the skin of my back, as if memorizing the feel of me beneath his touch.

“Promise me,” he whispered, his voice thick, his breath warm against my skin. “Promise me you’ll stay.”

“I promise,” I breathed, closing my eyes as I settled deeper into his embrace, my own arms folding around his, grounding both of us in the moment. His scent, the warmth of his body, it all wrapped around me like a protective cocoon.

And there, in the quiet darkness of his room, we found solace. It wasn’t the kind of promise that needed words to seal it—it was understood in the silence, in the way we held each other. He pulled the covers over us, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at peace.

Dave’s arms tightened around me, pulling me even closer, and I could feel the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart as we drifted into the stillness of sleep. Neither of us spoke again, but I could feel the weight of his feelings in the air between us—something real, something strong.

"I’m not going anywhere, Dave," I whispered one last time before sleep took over, the words a promise that echoed softly in the quiet room.

And with that, we drifted off together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten.

[differenteagletragedy]

So yesterday someone requested a swap AU fic with Baxter as the boy who moved across the street, Cove as his friend you met at 13 and Derek as the guy who rented the condo for the summer. I promptly lost my mind, so here is more.

This is the part in Step 3 when everyone goes to the restaurant and Cove tells everyone he's going to get an apartment and he and MC have a moment, except Baxter style.

"Tell your boyfriend to stop fixing his hair and come on, I'm hungry," Liz said impatiently.

"He's not my boyfriend and he has his process," you replied, looking across the street at your best friend's house.

You, Liz, your moms and Lee were all outside, waiting to go to dinner. Baxter had been invited as well, but it seemed he was running a bit late.

As you were pulling out your phone to text him, he finally appeared. He had a troubled expression, but once he saw you and your family already assembled by your mom's car he turned on a practiced smile and jogged over.

"My apologies," he said, coming to a stop by your side. "I won't hold us up any further. Shall we?"

He held his arm up for you to take and Liz snorted, then said, "We'll meet you there."

Baxter, for all his eccentricities that you'd come to know so well in then ten years you'd been friends, fancied himself a bit of a gentleman. He always offered you his arm when walking anywhere, and you always accepted. You'd had a crush on him for years but had always been too nervous to tell him, so being close to him in any capacity was nice.

Tonight felt a bit different though. Usually he gave off a warmth when you were together, a sort of easygoing gentleness that you'd always noticed was reserved only for you, but now he was tense. As you settled in the passenger seat of his car, ready to follow your family to the restaurant, you saw that his shoulders were tense, and his jaw clenched. He wouldn't look at you.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said a little too quickly as he pulled out onto the street. You kept looking at him, and eventually he let out a sigh.

"Family stuff again?" you asked.

"It's miserable there," he responded, keeping his voice low as he always did when he talked about his parents. Being vulnerable was difficult for him, but he was able to manage it with you.

"I'm sorry," you told him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It's only gotten worse since I've turned 18," he continued. "It's like all the expectations they've placed on me my entire life should have suddenly manifested as soon as I became an adult, and because they haven't, and they won't, they're taking it out on me."

Baxter's voice got even lower, and there was a pain to it as he added, "It's unbearable."

You tried to comfort him as best you could, but the drive to the tropical place was a short one, and soon he was pulling into a parking space beside your parents. He took a breath, shot you another fake smile, then got out.

After you'd been seated and your orders had been taken, Baxter cleared his throat. The attention turned to him, and he began speaking.

"I have a bit of an announcement," he began. "I've been keeping it to myself until all the details were hammered out, but now I can share: I'll be headed east to start college in the fall. Virginia, to be precise. For a degree in business."

Your mothers were quick to congratulate him -- he'd become like a third child to them, so it was natural they'd be proud. Lee clapped her hands together, and Liz even joined in, but you just stared at him in shock.

You'd talked about your future plans, of course, and you knew Baxter was going to college but you assumed it would be somewhere nearby. Moving across the country was something someone would discuss with their best friend, but he'd kept you completely in the dark. It hurt.

Baxter answered your family's questions and thanked them for their support, but then he turned to you. You shared a look for a moment.

"If you'll excuse me, I believe I'd like to stretch my legs for just a moment before dinner arrives," he said, standing. He looked down to you, and held out his arm. "Care to join me?"

Without a word, you took his arm once again and followed him to the entrance.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he said quietly, leaning in to speak to you. "If I'm being honest, I didn't know how."

"So you thought it would have been best to tell me like this? When do you even leave, in a month?"

"Three weeks," he corrected. You scoffed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, grasping your hands and pulling them up to his chest. "I truly am. If there was a way I could stay, I would, and I have to believe you know that. I don't want to leave you, I need to leave them."

His parents. That was the reason for the cross-country move. He was running away.

There was something about his closeness, his hands gripping yours close to his heart that became too much. You loved him, and he was leaving. And as long as his parents lived in the area, you doubted he'd ever want to come back.

"I have to go," you said, pulling your hands back. He began to say something, but you raised your hand to stop him, then left the restaurant.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes and decided to take a seat in your mom's car to have a moment to yourself. You unlocked the back door with a shaky hand and climbed in, then let everything out.

Baxter had been there for over half your life at this point. His presence was a constant, something you could always count on. You'd spent countless days together, and so many nights after he started sneaking in your window for impromptu sleepovers when he couldn't stand being in his own house anymore. You couldn't imagine things being so different.

After a bit, you steadied your breath and wiped your face. When you felt steady enough, you moved to get out, but then you spotted a flash of black and white illuminated by a streetlight.

There was Baxter, leaning against the trunk of his car, waiting for you.

You couldn't help but smile, and at that moment he turned back and caught your eye. He gave a cautious smile back, then tapped on the window.

"Care for some company?" he asked when you opened the door.

And so he crawled in the backseat with you, and before you could say anything, he had his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He laid a kiss on top of your head, then rested his cheek there.

"I'm not going to be gone for good," he told you. "And honestly I'm a little ashamed of myself if I've let you believe you could get rid of me this easily."

"You're going to be on the other side of the continent, Baxter."

"I'll visit you. You'll visit me. We'll have summer breaks." He kissed your head again and pulled you even closer, then said, "It's four years, darling. You're stuck with me for a lifetime."

You snuggled into him, basking in his affection. He wasn't always this sweet, finding it more comfortable to joke and tease, but in moments like these, it was harder not to fall more deeply in love with him.

A few more minutes passed in comfortable silence, then you told him that you'd better get back to the restaurant. He agreed, and you stepped out of the car. Just before you got to the door, he stopped and turned to face you.

"There is one more thing I feel the need to say," he started. "Something I should have told you long ago."

Taking a look at his expression, you got nervous. He was about to tell you something serious. His expression was hard to read, but when you saw his eyes dart down to your lips, you stopped him.

"We better get going," you said, stepping toward the doors. "Maybe we can talk about this another time."

Baxter looked at you a moment longer, swallowed, then smiled.

"Yes. Another time."

[multiverse--wanderer]

The Hatred Of Love | Ghost x König (Call of Duty) [ENG]

[One Shot based on the OTP between Ghost and König (Call Of Duty) WARNING: This One Shot contains explicit narratives of intimate relationships.Did you like this One Shot? Remember you can read more like it on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/MultiverseWanderer In a lonely apartment, two souls meet again under the promise to never do it again. Will they find redemption in each other's arms or will they succumb to the destructive power of their own desire? They will discover that some temptations are too strong to resist and that the path to the deepest pleasure can also be the most dangerous.* Cover image credits to the author.

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

-'ღ'-

There's no way to get him out of my mind.

There's no way I can find him in another mouth, in other hips.

The situation is becoming the most frustrating, the most ridiculous thing that has happened to me in my fucking life. Driven by the need to turn off my mind for a while and lose myself in a torrid encounter, I have fallen so low that I no longer find pleasure in a body other than his.

With my pants too tight and overly snug, I headed out into the street, back to my rented apartment in the center. Each step is a struggle against the clinging fabric that seems to want to keep me anchored in the memory of what just happened, still throbbing. The night is dark and heavy, and the rain begins to fall; its cold and persistent drops are the only thing that manages to bring me to my senses for a few seconds, allowing me to think clearly about this whole situation.

As I walk, the water soaks my clothes, sticking them to my skin and cooling the burning I still feel in my body. The city is almost deserted at this hour, and the sound of my footsteps echoes through the empty streets, mingling with the constant rustle of the rain. Every drop that hits my face is a reminder of reality, a call to sanity that seems to fade away as soon as it arises. Meanwhile, I make my way through the wet streets, and my mind returns again and again to his face, to the way his eyes looked at me with a mixture of triumph and desire, to how his mouth, that damned temptation, moved over me with devastating precision.

But Alexander wasn't the protagonist that night, Gérard was.

Deciding to go with that beautiful blue-eyed Frenchman I met at the bar was a terrible decision. The twenty-seven-year-old works as secretary to the Minister of Defense and still knows how to add two plus two. My idea had been to have a few glasses of strong alcohol at the bar at the base and calm the need that had been running through my soul for several days now. For a few moments at first, it seemed to work until the double-edged sword of alcohol attacked me from behind worse than I could have ever imagined.

Gérard had noticed my figure long before I had noticed his. He was the one who approached when the bar was closing and invited me for one last drink. I looked at him, contemplated his erotic half-smile, his defined eyes, and saw his intentions as clear as the dawn. He seemed to see the same thing in my eyes, because he decided to stay, not knowing how dangerous this erotic game with me was.

He tried to find out about me but got nothing. I lied on my behalf, I lied in my job, and I lied in my situation. He, however, told me everything about his life in an attempt to get me to reveal something more.

From one drink, we went on to two more. When the curly blonde got tired of waiting, I could feel his hand sliding in a private caress down my thigh in a clear invitation. I took air through my nose for just a few seconds and slowly released it in the same place. It would have been so easy to pull her hand away and say no to her charms (which I had in abundance), but I decided to jump into the hoops. I decided it was the best thing to do to prove to myself that I wasn't in need of a single man with a first and last name.

"Let's go to my hotel room." He was continually whispering in my ear.

Under the need that my body needed and under the provocations of the pure French worker, I decided to accept.

He kissed and moved well, he knew how to unfold his eroticism in every honeyed word he uttered. He managed to make me believe, on more than one occasion, that perhaps I could reach that long-awaited orgasm with him. He liked rough sex and only asked for more in response to the grips that my firm hands were subjecting to him. I could see his eyes, half-closed and moist with pleasure, flash in a bright blue that he didn't recognize. I searched his orbs for Alexander's tired eyes without realizing it, and it was only when I couldn't find his deep, murky seas did I realize that I couldn't find any kind of excitement in Gérard's.

It was a desperate attempt to fill a void, a pale reflection of what I really wanted.

I turned him around, put him on his back, and he clung to the pillow. He moaned so loudly against it that it reverberated in the hotel room. I saw his body, thin and sculpted in marble-like perfection, which gave me a strange feeling of nausea.

Not because of him, but because of myself.

Every movement felt empty, every moan, a mockery of what had once been a dance of true passion. Gérard's perfection only highlighted the imperfection of what he felt at the time. I missed the warmth, the intensity, the electricity that went through me every time Alexander touched me.

Underneath makeup that concealed my own scars and tattoos so as not to be recognized by anyone, were hidden wars that only one man had licked with desire and tinges of love. My whole world started to fall apart and despite the frustration and drive to keep going, I couldn't do it. I wasn't getting anywhere, and to the shore I was approaching, I refused to anchor myself.

Gérard had already reached orgasm several times. When he reached his third, as scandalous as it was appetizing, I pulled out and moved with disgust in search of my clothes. He turned to look at me and from his trembling voice came a "are you leaving?" that pleaded for more. I didn't answer, it was a question that didn't need an answer.

And now I find myself wandering the sidewalk in the rain, on my way to the sober apartment I had rented for the duration of the mission. I found myself cursing myself for being such an idiot once again. He'd had too many sporadic relationships to know how it worked. The reason I did it was to find an oasis pleasure amidst so much chaos and pain, and lately my only livelihood of feeling something was fading away like sand under salt water.

It's all his fault. Because of him.

When I got inside the apartment, I didn't even turn on the lights. I let the gloom from the window of the high-rise building where the apartment was located decorate the interior with dark and subtle tones. I moved straight to the luxurious bathroom and only turned on one of its many lights.

Over the sink, I took off my soaked dark T-shirt and proceeded to remove all the makeup I had on my torso. I peeled off the thin prosthetics that concealed the larger scars and removed all the makeup that covered the more specific or recognizable marks, like the tattoo on my arm. I left the faucet running and allowed the warm water to do the rest as I rubbed with my hand, unconsciously trying to remove all the remnants of that night and what I had become.

The brown dye I had put in my hair fell in small, weak drops down my neck, washing away its false color to reveal the blonde that defined my appearance. I wiped away the remnants that the rainwater hadn't managed to remove with a towel and threw everything into the laundry basket.

The phone resting on the counter beside the sink I was now cleaning with my hands vibrated, and its screen lit up. An incoming message appeared on the screen, and as if the bastard had known how to read my mind, he wrote to me.

"König: I miss you."

A measly message that managed to completely destroy me. All the barriers I was trying to build, all the distances... Such an everyday message from him and yet the one I needed least at this moment.

I clenched my fists against the marble sink and cursed his figure over and over again. I cursed him, knowing that it wasn't unusual to receive such messages from him, that I was the one who always ignored his private messages, and yet now I needed anything but that.

He no longer wrote me "I need you," which indicated unbridled sex driven by his explicit need. Now he wrote "I miss you." What the hell did that mean? I knew the answer firsthand; I just needed to look at my current situation, I just needed to look in the damn mirror.

Not being able to have a casual relationship with anyone because no one can meet my standards like he does. Looking for him in other lips and finding nothing but sand under my tongue. Everything escalated far beyond a simple "I need you." It escalated to the point where I missed him, missed him so much that any ghost pretending to be him was just a blurred shadow.

And I hated it. I hated him so much for it.

The cumulative anger of the night escalated with every thought, and he was responsible. He was the reason I felt my blood boil with rage. I can't understand why everything is so different with him, why I can't settle for other relationships, and why that damn six-foot-nine kid can't stop drilling into my head for a single second.

It had been more than a month and a half since we had seen each other outside of work. The closer I got to him, the more uphill it became. He sought my gaze like a puppy seeks its owner. He sought crumbs of attention like a hungry dog and received nothing but indifference from me.

Why is he still here?

I picked up the phone and opened his message. I saw all the messages I had from him with no response, and I almost felt guilty. Then I remembered the reason I walked away from him, and I knew it was to spare him all the suffering I was causing him.

He couldn't find happiness by my side because I could only give him pain, and that's the last thing he deserves.

He, who despite everything being darkness in his world, lets all the light that continues to shine within him show when he's with me.

"Ghost: Come to my apartment now."

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

[thoseboysinblue]

My Type

Part 1

Christian Pulisic x reader

You have a chance encounter with Christian, who happens to be just your type.

Word count: 2700+

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, drinking

Thanks to the girlies in the gc for the inspiration 😘

You spent the day lounging on the beach in Miami sipping on drinks, reading, listening to music and enjoying some much needed downtime for your friend, Ella's, bachelorette party. After your day in the sun, you and your friends had all returned to the beach house you were renting for the weekend to get ready for your night out. It promised to be an interesting night based on the theme of "dress like your type" chosen by the bride-to-be.

You were thankful that you would be able to dress casually and let your hair down a bit, pulling on some cutoff shorts and your favorite sneakers. Although your friends had no idea who he was; Christian Pulisic embodied your type, brown hair, brown eyes, soft spoken and athletic. Topping your outfit off with his jersey, you finished curling your hair and applied a final coat of lip gloss and mascara before you joined the rest of the group.

A few more drinks and social media posts later, you all climbed into a minibus, ready to enjoy the Miami night life and celebrate your friend's upcoming wedding.

"I don't know man, can't we just stay here?" Christian asks, running his hand through his hair.

"No, come on, let's go into Miami, have a night out, blow off some steam," Nick pleads with him.

"Fine, yeah, whatever," he gives in, going into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

He's tired and isn't really in the mood for a big crowd, but he doesn't get to see his friends in the States that often so he obliges their request for a night out, hoping a few drinks will improve his mood.

They arrive at a night club, trying his best to keep a low profile, Christian directs them to a booth just off the dance floor and orders a round beers and shots for everyone.

Scanning over the sea of people on the dance floor, Nick nudges him and tilts his head in the direction of your group of friends, "they look like a fun bunch," he raises his eyebrows. Christian had already spotted you, noticing you were in a US soccer jersey, "interesting attire for a night club" he thought to himself as he waited patiently for you to turn your back to him so that he could see whose jersey you were wearing. His eyes widen and his heart rate increases slightly when you turn just enough for him to see "SIC" on your back.

You are enjoying yourself, dancing and drinking the night away with your friends, mostly ignoring anyone who approaches your group since you are more interested in your girls weekend than any random hookup. "I'm going to go get drinks," you shout over the music to Ella before turning to make your way through the crowd to the bar.

"I'll be right back" Christian says to Alec, noticing you leaving the dance floor and hoping to catch you at the bar.

You push your way through the crowd finding an open spot at the bar and waiting to catch the bartender's eye. Christian spots you, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees an open space next to you that he can squeeze into.

"Nice jersey, you a fan?" he says over the music. "Something like that," you say back, still trying to get the attention of the bartender until you turn to face whoever is speaking to you.

"Oh shit" you blurt out as you are met with a pair of dark eyes and a playful grin, dimples fully on display as you feel your cheeks flush.

"Hi" he chuckles, grabbing the bartender's attention, finally.

"Can I get a Michelob Ultra here, and whatever she's having, then send a round of beers to that booth over there, along with tequila bottle service," he asks, nodding towards you to order, "you can order for your friends too, if you want," he smiles at you, "just put it on my tab" he nods at the bartender.

"One vodka sprite and one vodka cranberry please" you smile, thanking him for the drinks.

"You could've ordered for the rest of your friends," he smiles at you. "I just came over to get something for me and the bride-to-be," you shrug, "I wouldn't expect you to get drinks for all of us."

"Ah, so it is a bachelorette party," he says offering you a lime for your drinks and picking up the vodka cranberry you had gotten for Ella. "Yeah, just here for the weekend," you say taking a sip of your drink and watching as he takes a swallow of his beer.

"I'm assuming there is a theme, or do you always go out dressed in jerseys?" he smirks, looking you up and down before catching the look on your face that didn't seem amused by his comment. "That didn't come out right, you look good, I swear, it's just not what girls around here usually wear on a night out," he tries digging himself out of the hole he's in, but you don't budge, keeping a straight face. "Fuck. I'm making this worse" he says as he rubs his hand over the back of his neck looking at you, his cheeks flushing.

"You finished?" you say, still no sign of amusement on your face.

"Thanks for the drink, but I don't think I'm what you came into this club looking for, Christian" you hold your hand out to take Ella's drink from him.

His pupils dilate slightly as he hears his name roll off of your tongue, "I'll take this to her," he looks at you, his demeanor definitely changed.

Christian notices that his group of friends has now joined in with your friends on the dance floor as you are making your way back to Ella, "fuck sake" he mutters to himself before plastering a smile on his face and offering Ella her drink along with his congratulations.

"It is a bachelorette party, man" Nick shouts over the music "dress like your type is the theme," he grins, grabbing one of your friends and spinning her around before he realizes what you have on, a Cheshire Cat grin on his lips. You stand there frozen, tempted to just leave without making eye contact with Christian again.

"What are the fucking odds" Alec chuckles elbowing Christian. He shakes his head at him, "don't, I've already fucked it up," he rolls his eyes at himself, watching as you slip away through the crowd.

"Hey, let your friends know I've bought beer and a bottle of tequila for our table over there, you guys can help yourselves and if you want anything else, just have one of them put it on my tab" he gestures towards Nick and Alec smiling at Ella before wandering over to the booth and sitting down.

You return to your friends on the dance floor, noticing that Christian seems to be watching you from his booth, averting his gaze every time you glance towards him. A smirk painted on your lips, you decide to give him a little show if he was going to stare all night. You dance sensually to the music, turning to give him a good view of your ass along with his name on your back, pulling your shirt up slightly in the heat of the packed dance floor, exposing your toned mid drift. You throw him a wink when you catch him staring, his lips slightly parted like he's in a trance.

"Come take a shot" Abigail shouts at you, grabbing your hand along with Nick's and pulling you over to the table where Christian is sitting having absolutely no idea that he is actually the man whose jersey you are wearing.

"What's your name?" she shouts at Christian, pouring shots out for the four of you. "Christian" he smiles catching on to the fact that she doesn't recognize him. "Why aren't you dancing?" she presses him, sliding a shot across the table to him. "Because he doesn't even want to be here," Nick answers earning a glare from Christian, "he'd rather be at home, being boring," he chuckles swallowing the shot back and turning to grab a lime. "So would, y/n, we always have to beg her to come out with us," she laughs before taking her shot. "Thanks for these" she grins at Christian before turning to pull Nick back to the dance floor.

"You gonna take that?" he nods towards the shot glass sitting in front of you as you sit down on the edge of the booth. "Are you?" you fire back at him. He nods, watching as you take the shot glass and hold it to your lips, pausing slightly to take a deep breath before taking it. You glance around looking for a lime, finding him holding one up for you between his fingers. He pulls it away when you reach for it, smirking as he offers it to you again, holding it up to your lips for you to take. You roll your eyes and pull the lime from between his fingers with your mouth, noticing the way he bites his lower lip when you do.

He takes his shot quickly, standing up and holding his hand out for you, "dance with me?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at you. "Fine" you huff, placing your hand in his and allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor.

"Y/N, is it?" he asks as you nod, turning your back to him as he places his hands softly on your hips.

"Tell me how this is your type," he says, pulling at the material of the jersey you're wearing. You grind your hips back against him, smirking when he groans and grips onto your hips a little tighter before you turn to face him wrapping your hands around the back of his neck. "Is it, actually me, or something else?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"I mean, I guess it's guys like you, dark hair, dark eyes, athletic, probably should throw some red flags in there too, since that seems to be what I attract, but no, not you specifically" you shrug at him.

"Well, no red flags here," he dips his head to speak directly in your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. "You sure about that?" you tilt your head back to look him in the eyes. "I guess that would depend on what you consider red flags," he grins at you.

"I know what I said earlier, came across wrong," he starts before you hold your hand up against his chest stopping him. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't actually upset, just wanted to make you squirm a bit," you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up slightly. "Well, I still want to explain my self," he says turning you back around so that your back is against his chest.

"It's actually nice to see someone dressed more casually on a night out, I like it, prefer it actually," he says, against the shell of your ear, his mouth dangerously close to your neck as you feel his warm breath fan across your face, "most girls around here come out specifically looking for one thing, but you don't seem that way."

You shake your head, "Do you really think I'd have worn your jersey if I thought there was a chance I'd run into you? I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole when I realized it was you standing next to me at the bar," you say, throwing your arm up and around the back of his head, pulling him closer to you so that he could hear you.

"I noticed you before I realized what you had on," he smiles against your neck inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your shampoo.

"Is that so?" you ask, turning to face him as he nods, cheeks flushing a bit. "Yes, seems like you're my type, too" he winks.

"Would you like another drink?" he asks tilting his head towards the bar. "I think just a water, this time" you smile as he slips his fingers through yours, pulling you towards the bar. He orders both of you a water as you sit and chat realizing you have a lot in common with one another. "How long are you here until?" he asks. "All day tomorrow, and our flight is at 4 on Sunday," you smile at him.

The bartender calls last call and you watch as Christian closes out his tab. Abigail and Nick walking over to where you are. "Y/N, our minibus is on the way, it will be here in a few minutes," she says, eyeing Christian up and down as he slips his card back into his wallet. You nod at her and stand to leave, but feel Christian's hand slip loosely around your wrist giving you a little tug to get your attention. You turn to face him, standing between his legs, "nice to meet you, Christian," you smile, bringing one hand to the side of his face and leaning in to press a light kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you too, y/n" he smiles nervously and it seems like he's holding something back. You offer him a smile, before turning to join the rest of the group assuming your chance encounter is over and that you will never see him again.

"Please tell me you got her number," Alec says to Christian as he watches you walk away. "Nope, didn't even get her last name," he says shaking his head at how stupid he's been. "Did either of you get any of their names so that maybe we can track them down?" he looks between them visibly frustrated when they both shake their heads.

As you crowd into the minibus, Ella, loops her arm around yours. "Who was the hottie you were with all night?" she giggles. "He was exactly my type," you sigh at her. "Well did you get his name?" she asks. "Didn't have to" you roll your eyes, opening up his Instagram profile and showing it to her. "Oh fuck, are you serious?" she stammers, clearly at a loss for words when you nod and bury your face in your hands.

"It's fine, not like I'll ever see him again" you shrug. "Oh, honey, the way he was devouring you with his eyes, that boy is going to be trying to track you down," she grins. "Well, it's gonna be tough, he only got my first name," you shake your head at her.

Taking matters into her own hands, Ella, tags him on one of the pictures she had posted earlier in the evening, hoping on an off chance he might see it along with your profile tagged.

Once he's home, Christian scrolls through his social media, clearing out notifications when sees that someone named Ella has tagged him on a picture. Surely not, he thinks to himself as he clicks on the notification, opening up the picture of you and your friends. He smiles to himself realizing that Ella must have added the tag recently in hopes of playing matchmaker after he presumes you'd told her who he is. He notices that you are also tagged, clicking on your name and finding that your account is private, his finger hovers over the request button momentarily before he pushes it and closes the app and goes to sleep.

The next morning you wake up, groaning when your head starts pounding as soon as you sit up. You get out of the bed and put your phone on the charger after you notice it's dead, before going in search of water and painkillers. When you return to your room, your phone turns on, and you hear several notifications come through. Assuming it's where your friends have tagged you in photos and videos from last night, you grab the phone and scroll through the notifications.

Your eyes widen in disbelief when one in particular catches your eye:

cmpulisic has requested to follow you

Part 2

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16

[dramatiquechipmunk]

So, I write stuff.

Mostly fan fiction that involves our favourite resident sassy vampire that's been living in my head rent-free since BG3 came out. But I also dip my toes into poetry sometimes.

If any caught your eyes, here's where you can find it:

Poetry

My Verses Know What You Did In the Dark - This is a collection of poems from my OC's, Octavia, notebook—a personal glimpse into her journey through the events of the game. These pieces focus on the relationships she builds with her companions, going from fully distrusting them to becoming something akin to found family. Since she falls in love with Astarion, a lot of the poems revolve around him. Their relationship is complicated, messy, and full of highs and lows, and I wanted to explore that in her voice.

Multi-chapter fics

Catch Me If You Can - 50's AU with Astarion as a detective

Rating: E

Pairing: F/M

Summary: In 1950s New York, Detective Astarion Ancunin prides himself on being the best—until a high-profile case throws him into a tangled web of stolen jewels, shadowy adversaries, and a certain someone who keeps slipping through his fingers. In a city that never sleeps, where secrets lurk behind every corner, Astarion must navigate intrigue, temptation, and a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse that blurs the line between duty and desire.

Marked by Fate - Follows the events of Act 1 of a circus-raised, morally grey Tav. Canon rewrite to make it more D&D. Slow burn and idiots in love who are bad at feelings trope.

Rating: E

Pairing: F/M

Summary: Imagine waking up hungover… with a Mindlfayer tadpole in your brain. That’s Octavia´s life now, and to make matters worse, her fellow survivors include a moody cleric with too many secrets, a self-righteous warlock, an insufferably smug wizard, a charming but shady vampire rogue, a githyanki warrior with anger issues, and a tiefling barbarian who punches first and asks questions never. Their mission? Survive goblin warbands, hag bargains, infernal invasions, and each other—while racing against time to find a cure for the squirmy things threatening to turn them into mind flayers.

One-shots

Till they rest my bones on the cold ground, I'll be around (fluffy)

Pairing: F/M

Still Standing. Still Yours (spicy)

Pairing: F/M

Double trouble (spicy)

Pairing: M/F/M

Seeing double (spicy)

Pairing:F/F/M

[mrsnancywheeler]

What about when Billy brought muse back to the house for the first time, let her stay, let her bring a bag. I imagine what the others would say, especially Karen.

-🌾anon

guys karen sirko is literally the love of my life, you don't understand, she's such an icon and I'm in love with her

anywayyssss, billy being at muse's house after she came to yet another gig and by now it's been consistent going to gigs, makeout sessions, hookups in random rooms, and he's already broken her heart at least once but she's still around, and he originally was just going to drop her off but ofc he's going inside anyways

all the lights are off, and it's a pretty big place, but it just looks so empty no matter how much stuff is technically up, "damn, it's dark in here. is everyone gone this late?"

and you're lighting up a cigarette, "there is no everyone." you say with a shrug.

"this huge house, and nobody else even lives here, you could rent out rooms or something in this place."

you laugh lightly, smiling, "no need. dad thought it would be good for appearances and if I had a party wouldn't trash his house even if he wasn't around to see. but, we're pretty empty."

"hmmm, I can see that." billy puts his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. and it hits him that of course you're at every gig, always picking up the phone, you've got friends, but for the most part it's just you alone, in this big, empty house. you're lonely and he doesn't know why, but he feels inclined to help you. "I should go."

and you pull away, "yeah of course, keeping the rockstar out past his bedtime."

"you should come with me." he says it so abruptly, "back the the house, we're just gonna be there working on stuff for the next couple days, you should get to know everyone."

and it implies so much, that you should stay at the house with everyone for days, that you're important enough to meet the band, even though he's already implied you're just another groupie. but you nod and pack and go with him anyways.

and you're so nervous when you get there because you kind of know the band, but not really, you've talked to eddie the most, and this feels so official, like meeting the family z even though you're not really official, and your heart is kind of beating out of it's chest

"this is-" billy starts

"we know," karen cuts in, because of course they know, he's been hanging around you for a while and mentioned you many times, so had eddie. "karen."

and when billy is bringing you back to his room to put your bag down eddie is already complaining and karen does make a remark

"I didn't realize we were going to be bringing teenagers back," karen leans on the counter and graham is already trying to defend his brother.

"she is an adult, and this could be good for him, you know-"

"yeah, an adult teen."

eddie is interjecting to complain already, "he's such a fucking asshole, you know he's already kissing other girls? and he knew I liked her." but nobody is really paying him any kind.

"well, I think she seems pretty cool, you know. could bring some new energy in!" warren offers.

"I do too, she's not the problem." karen says, taking a drink.

"I mean, this might not even be a thing, guys, we should stay on the down low about it. not freak her out, or him, see what happens." graham says.

and the rest is history. once you're there you basically never leave unless you and billy have a blowup fight, you were in fact basically a permanent installation.

you'd smoke, drink, and watch shows with warren. he'd try to teach you how to play drums when you were to high to even really try. you'd explain the plots of movies to each other as badly as you could to see if the other could guess it and they'd have to take a shot if they didn't. you'd tell him stories about celebrities you'd met without the names to see if he could guess who they were about. he was the first to try anything you'd bake. warren made you feel alive.

with graham you'd play endless card and board games you'd randomly pick up, you were always willing to go surfing with him even if you weren't really good at it, just because you loved the beach. you picked up on his crush on karen very quickly, and he ended up confiding in you about it, in fact he ended up asking your support for a lot of issues he had. and you were always there for him. graham made you feel needed.

karen and you latched to each other as the only girls in the house, as soon as you could. she heard your problems judgement free, never expected an explanation when your feelings got complicated, would go out to watch movies with you, would just lay on the beach with you, share a cigarette and listen to each other's favorite record, listen to you talk about your problems in the world and she'd really just listen. she knew you weren't asking for guidance and she knew when you were to give it. karen made you feel heard.

you realized eddie was in love with you faster then you'd ever admit. he was so eager whenever he could to help out, to take you anywhere, he memorized your favorite food at different diners, favorite ice cream flavors, favorite movies, records, flowers, all of it. he would listen too, tell you how much better you deserved. and even if you knew it was wrong, it felt nice, because eddie made you feel loved.

and billy with all his good days and bad days. with the days where he'd write love songs about you, tell you how you were his muse, the days you'd just watch him play and write, the days of quiet. and the bad days of endless fighting, and heartbreak, and hurt, and words. the way he'd always come knocking at your door and you realized that despite your better judgment you weren't turning him away. billy made you feel in love, made you feel passion.

and then daisy would come along. she would defend you with every breath, always stand up for you, encouraged you to get out in the world and do whatever you loved, helped you write songs, wrote them with you, even used some for the band. she heard you voice, she never tried to do anything but defend you, she was without ulterior motive, and daisy made you feel seen, made you feel seen.

[yelenasdiary]

Different Kind of Love || Part VII 1/2

Pairing: CEO! MobBoss! Natasha Romanoff x Assistant! Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Working for Natasha was never easy and being a low-level assistant for the CEO wasn’t where you thought you’d be after working your hardest for 2 years. After catching you in tears on Christmas Eve, Natasha’s cold ways start to warm up.

Dark Themes | Language Warning | DARK! Natasha | Mentions of Blood | Unwanted Attention | Mentions of Vomit | 2.2K | 

Notes: Dylan’s dialog is meant to sound like how a 5-year-old would talk and his nickname is Dyl and not a misspell.

Different Kind of Love Masterlist

"You'd want to hope Kane hurry's up, I'm getting a little impatient" Matt winked at you as you sat on the sofa with your hands tied together, "What do you want? Please, just tell me!" Your mind racing with thoughts of Dylan at home alone, hoping Natasha got your message. "I'm just helping out a friend, Kane just wants to see that kid of yours and I? well, I just want to take a moment to remember that night we shared" Your stomach turned at his intentions. The front door to what you assumed was Kane's cheaply rented apartment by the lack of furniture and the moldy smell coming from the walls, opened and slammed shut.

"About time man! What took you so fucking long?!" Matt put out his cigarette before turning around. "Sorry, I was busy" a familiar voice entered the room before the loud sound of a gun behind fired. Matt dropped to the floor, a clean shot to the middle of his forehead. You screamed at the scene as blood pooled around him. 

"Y/n, shhh" Natasha put her weapon away and rushed to you, "it's okay" she added when your repetitively said no over and over with your eyes closed. "It's me, it's Natasha" she cuts your hands free from the rope with her pocketknife. "YOU JUST KILLED HIM!" You jumped away from Natasha in shock. "I know, I know, but it's okay" she tried to calm you as you started to hyperventilate, "Y-YOU SH-SHOT HIM! WHAT THE FUCK!" You couldn't look at her. 

"I'm going to give you a moment" Natasha watched as you paced with your eyes closed while you processed what just happened. "Wh-where's Dylan?! Where's my son!?" You shot your eyes wide at Natasha, "He safe, he's okay. He's at my condo, I promise you he's okay" she assured you, she didn't blink once. Your eyes dropped mistakenly to the floor where Matt's lifeless body lay in a pool of his own blood cause a mouthful of vomit to find its way on the floor beside him. "What the hell is going on?!" you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, "he was right, wasn't he?! Kane, he was right, you –"

"Yes. I'm not going to lie to you, this isn't how I wanted you to find out" she interrupted. 

"Find out what?! Natasha you just MURDERED SOMEBODY!" You started pacing again to keep from throwing up again, "oh my god, you're going to go to jail, you're a lawyer and you just killed him!" 

"Y/n, look at me, just for a second" Natasha came over to you and placed her hands on your shoulders, stopping you from pacing as you looked at her. Tears filled your eyes and you felt sick to your stomach, "keep your eyes on me, don't worry about what's around you. Just listen to me" Natasha's voice oddly started to make you feel calm as you kept your eyes on her just like she said. "Good, now, I know what I'm about to say isn't what you want to hear but I want you to know I would never, ever hurt you or Dylan" Tears streamed from your eyes at the mention of your son's name. 

"I don't care what you want to call it but I'm a part of a mafia, I run one. That's where I go when I randomly take off and yes, I had one of my men to abduct Kane. That man on the floor, he worked for me, and I had no idea he was going to do this to you, I swear to you. I would never put you or Dylan in danger. 

When you said that Kane was stalking you, the fear in your eyes told me that he had to be taken care of. Hearing your story, what he did to you, what he has continued to do, made my blood boil. I've never let anybody see me the way I've let you in Y/n. You're my best friend and I love you and Dylan like family. On Christmas eve when you were crying because I selfishly kept you late for my own pathetic needs, I saw a scared young woman who just wanted to be with her son and when you introduced me to little Dylan, I knew I had to do something to keep you both safe. 

It's not ideal for you, I know and it's scary, I know, and I understand if you never want to see me again but swear on my entire life, you're my best friend and I'd never hurt you, ever" 

You listened carefully to Natasha, she was right, it was crazy and scary but with every word that left her lips you became calmer. Her tone was honest and looking into her eyes you could see she wasn't lying to keep you from freaking out again. "D-did you k-kill him? K-Kane, is he?" You had to ask. 

Natasha shook her head, "No. he's still at my bunker" she answered honestly.

"Is he injured?"

"Yes, he's missing finger and he has two bullet wounds"  

"I c-can't believe t-this! Natasha, I let you into my life, my son's life!" you shook your head with your eyes closed, "Are you going to kill him?" You looked back at her trying to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach. "I want too" Natasha nodded, "because I know if he's gone for good then you and Dylan and finally live life without fear, that's all I want for you both. You deserve that" she adds. 

"Natasha, you're a damn lawyer! You know how this should've happened, the legal way, the right way!" You took a step back from her, finding it hard to believe all the information you just received. 

"The right way? Y/n he'd get a few years at the most and then he'd right back to stalking you and Dylan again. He doesn't care about anything; he just wants Dylan. That's why he had this prick take you" Natasha frowned slightly, she was right, you knew she was right. The justice system wasn't going to protect you from Kane forever. "I need to see Dylan, now" you looked at Natasha who nodded, "okay" she replied softly. 

----

Your eyes landed kindly on your son as he played with the man who took your victim statement, completely unaware of the world around him. Driving his plastic trucks along the make-believe track, tears filled your eyes at how peaceful he looked. "Come on Bucky! The building is on fire we have to save the people!" He raced his fire truck to the imaginary building as Bucky's toy truck followed, "let's do this big boss!" Bucky smiled softly as if he could see the images in your son's mind. 

"Y/n" Natasha's voice broke your attention, moving your eyes to glance at her for a moment. "I don't want to hear it Natasha, please. I just want Dylan and to go home" Tears streamed down your face once again, the entire idea of what Natasha did on the side for a living made your stomach turn. You couldn't look at her, not after everything she just told you. "Stay here for the night, it's late and he probably hasn't had dinner yet. I'll have my driver take you both home first thing in the morning" Natasha suggested, her tone had a promising ring to it making it harder for you to stay upset with her. 

"We'll get an uber" you turned to her.

 "I know you're ma-" 

"Not here, not in front of Dylan. I need some time to process all of this, alone" you frowned even though you were raised with well manners it burnt your tongue with the words that left your lips, "he'll have some dinner, I'll make it and we'll be off to bed. I just can't be around you right now Natasha" you explained. Natasha nodded, pain in her eyes from knowing she'd probably lost you, her first real best friend and she managed to screw it up. 

"Bucky" Natasha turned to the boys playing, Dylan's eye lit up at the sight of you. "Mommy!!" he ran into your arms, hugging you tighter than he's ever hugged you. "Aunty Nat found you!!" he smiled widely while looking at you, "She did. Were you a good boy for, I me-"

"James, or Bucky or Bu-"

"She gets it" Natasha interrupted, giving Bucky a look to say stand down. 

"Bucky and I were being firefighters! He can make a really cool water splashing sound and he fixed my truck with the broken door!" Dylan boosted; it was as if he completely forgot about his mother being abducted right in front of him. "Wow honey, it sounds like you had plenty of fun" you smiled softly at his baby face before kissing his cheek, "what do you say to James?" you added without looking at either Bucky or Natasha. 

"Thank you, Bucky, for playing with me!" Dylan turned slightly and smiled at the man in the black suit, "anytime little dude! Let me know if any of your trucks get a stiff door or a wheel falls off, I'll be happy to fix it for you little man" Bucky returned the smile before excusing himself out of Natasha's condo. "Sounds like you had lots of fun with Bucky! Are you ready for some dinner?" Natasha turned to Dylan with a soft smile as he nodded quickly. Her smile only made your stomach turn, for Dylan's sake you had to play nice with Natasha. 

Dylan had mashed potatoes, veggies and some chicken nuggets for dinner. He told you all about his moment of playing with Bucky while getting BBQ sauce all over his face as you and Natasha tried to keep things as normal as you could. Your mind flooding with thoughts of Kane and where Natasha was keeping him, what she'd done or was still doing to him, every thought only made the lump in your throat worse. 

"I think it's time for bed, honey" you looked over to Dylan once he finished his dinner, his eyes were heavy as he looked up at you and shook his head. "I'm not tired mommy" he pouted trying his best to have you believe his words. "How about mommy reads you a story and tuck you in?" you suggested quickly earning yourself a light nod. Dylan slid off his chair and walked up to Natasha with open arms. "Good night aunty Nat" he hugged her tightly, "Goodnight Dyl, have a good sleep" Natasha hugged him as her eyes slowly looked up at you knowing this might be the last chance she'd get to hug her favorite little friend. 

"Come on honey, let's get you to bed" you spoke after a few moments, Dylan letting you scoop him up into your arms before taking him to the room he'd be sleeping in. 

"Mommy?" Dylan looked at you as you tucked him in, kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, darling?" you asked as you sat on the edge of the bed with a book full of children's stories. "I'm sorry I punched that man. I thought he was hurting you" he said as you brushed his beautiful curls with your finger, "You are my big brave boy! I'm not mad at you baby, I'm so proud of you" you couldn't help but place a kiss on his forehead. 

"Did he hurt you mommy?"

"No honey" you shook your head hating that your little boy was asking questions that he should never have to worry about. "Why did he take you mommy? I thought you were lost forever" Tears filled your son's eyes as he looked at you with worry. "Oh honey" you made yourself comfortable beside him, snuggling him. "You're never going to lose me; he just took me away to have a talk but he's never going to bother us again" you assured him as you wiped his tears. "Do you promise mommy?" Dylan looked at you, "I promise baby, now, its time for bed! Somebody might be seeing Grandma and Grandpa soon" you hinted with a soft smile. Dylan's face lit up at the mention of his grandparents, "When? I can't wait! I miss them!" He boosted. "You have to get some sleep first then I'll tell you all about it" you kissed his cheek once more as you opened up the storybook. 

----

Hours past and you couldn't bring yourself to move from Dylan's side as he was fast asleep. His questions pondering through your mind as you tried to process everything that had happened, and the news Natasha told you. It wasn't long until memories of that night came floating back. The look on Kane's face when he ignored your cries for him to stop, begging him to not take advantage of you like he did, saying no over and over unable to fight him off. 

You thought about your life since that night, from finding out you were pregnant, telling your parents, Kane finding out, giving birth, and always feeling like your life was on the run from Kane. His face flashed through your mind as you came to a decision. 

Natasha was on the rooftop downing a scotch and a cigarette while looking over the city from afar, puffing on her toxic tabaco as if the world she life never bothered her. 

"Natasha" you spoke softly from behind, she looked over her shoulder as she put out her cigarette and turned to face you, "What did you decide?" she asked clenching her jaw.

Taglist: @marvelogic | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @blackwidow-3 | @lilsmeaux | @mmmmokdok | @wandanats-goodgirl | @toouncreativeforausername | @agent99galanzo | @marvelwomen-simp | @its-just-geek | 

[expired-applejuice]

Based on:

Dark paradise by Lana Del Rey

Grantaire takes the bullets.

Enjolras pretends to be shot but he was spared. No words were spoken. None could be. Grantaire was choking on his own blood, while Enjolras was trying to keep his sobs quiet. Still they had a conversation. Grantaire smiled, holding Enjolras hand. Enjolras kissed his head while squeezing his hand tightly. He felt useless as Grantaire slowly died in pain.

When the women came to clean, one, who resembled Grantire, found him still clinging on his hand whispering a tearful apology. She too started to weep and helped the young leader up, pulling him into a silent hug. Enjolras apologized for getting blood on her dress, but she said not to mention it.

Days later Marius found the leader in the abandoned Cafe setting in a chair. The place was empty besides the furniture and two school boys. Marius sat across from him. He took note of Enjolras's bloodshot eyes, and his tear stained face. He held a tight grip on his handkerchief as he stared off into the room. He no longer wore his red coat, nor was his hair at his shoulders. No, he wore a black trench coat that was buttoned, with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

Marius looked no better with his bullet wound, broken bones, and shattered heart. Cosette, who took care of him, said he had gain some color back but was still awfully pale. His hair seemed to darkened, and he felt like he aged 20 years. He wasn't sure if he was alive without a soul, or just lost.

"What are we to do now?" Enjolras's weak voice broke Marius from his thoughts. He looked back at the blonde, who was still staring into space.

"I'm not sure, brother," Marius answered as they fell back into their silence.

After a sad sigh, Marius turned to the door. He haft expected their friends to walking into the door laughing. He waited for it, but they never came.

Enjolras found that he missed their laugher the most. The roar of it after one of Combeferre's remarks. The not so hidden chuckles when Bossuet trips. The gleeful victory "haha"s when Bahorel or Grantaire won a sparing match. The sneaky snickers that accured when a prank was being played. Their smiles. Their voices. Their presence. Them.

Feuilly always worked hard. Harder than any other in Paris. Joly was so compassionate and helpful to everyone. Jehan Prouvaire was simply a bright star that always helped them get through rough patches. Bahorel would always have your back in the best and worse way. Courfeyrac could influence anyone to do anything, but was still respectable. Combeferre, with his smarts could outwit a sly fox. Bossuet could give some of the best hugs. Grantaire, as much as he hid it, would have done anything for the group. Oh and how could he forget Gavroche? The little guy had more spirit in him than any of them. And poor Eponine, she was tougher than any of the national guards' men.

Enjolras spent so much time on the revolution that he had no idea who or what he was without his friends and movement. Really he didn't want to remember who he was, because it wasn't. It was not him. Not anymore.

"Their funeral is tomorrow," Marius reminded him still looking at the door.

Enjolras finally pulled his eyes towards Marius, "Yeah. Musichetta promised to help cook the food."

"That's nice."

"Yes, and Montparnasse promised to help Bury them."

"I'm thankful for him," Marius looked at him, "How's Grantaire's sister?"

Enjolras looked down at the table, "She saying it wasn't my fault. I'm just glad she agreed to move in with me, you know? With out Grantaire she probably wouldn't be able to make rent."

Marius nodded.

A few months later, Enjolras walked to the graveyard. He said hi to each of his friends, and even Javert, placing a flower on each stone. He stopped at Grantaire, sitting by his headstone in the snow. The blonde, who wore a green heavy coat, pulled out a bottle of wine and placed it by his stone.

"Marius' wedding is today," He said out loud, "I just got back from the tailors. I'm honored to be his best man."

The wind blew into his face making a roar in his ears. It was freezing, but Enjolras didn't leave, "We've helped each other a lot in these past few months, Marius, your sister, Musichetta, Montparnasse, and I. Talked a lot about old times. It's been hard."

Snow started to float softly down around him. It was beautiful and peaceful. "People say we should move on, past the revolution, love, and friendship. They tell us to forget the songs and memories."

Enjolras laid down in the snow, feeling as numb as his legs. He looked at the sky, "Sometimes I close my eyes, you lot are still here. You're drinking your wine. Courf' and 'ferre are talking about something Courfeyrac said to get Combeferre heated up. Joly and Bossuet are talking about Bossuet's soup he made for him. Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel are singing a song. And 'Poni and Gavroche are happy. I feel save in this place behind my close eyes."

"That's when it scares me. It scares me because when I go to join you one day, will I see you? Will I be punished for causing this to happen? Will you guys want to see me?" Tears fell from the corners of his eyes making his face colder.

He closed his eyes and he was still there, everything was the same. The only difference was Grantaire laying beside him, holding his hand, "Red, you say the stupidest things. We're waiting for you guys."

"Are you really here?"

Grantaire smiled sadly, "I love you Apollo."

Enjolras opened his eyes and he was alone.

"I love you too, Icarus."

[clochanamarch]

👀 // heehee hoohoo

send in 👀 to hear what aisling would say about your muse to another person. ( ACCEPTING! )

it's been six months since alec left. what a pleasant way to describe it. like he just handed in his resignation and went to portugal for his early retirement. not like he broke her heart and turned against the tiny shard of MI6 that remained good at their core. six months. and if you include the period of determined denial, it's really nine.

high time to do something about it, then. she hands in her resignation, packs her bags, and gets to work. every single location the two of them ever visited on missions. the sites of highly important government officials who owed him favors. past safehouses, places close to his heart. she tracks every single one of them down, and records everything. photos, notes, recordings, footage, all documented meticulously. no disguises. just aliases. anna jenkins. alice jennings. allison james. aliases that cling to the truth and lure him in like breadcrumbs. only he's much too clever to fall for something so indiscreet.

it's what she wanted. a loyal recruit sent to figure her out, desperate enough to prove himself that he might get a little... excited. and he does. he takes a metal pipe from a construction site, follows her into the dark apartment, arm raised to strike. and then she emerges from behind him, slams her heel into the back of his knee, and cracks her elbow against that spot between the neck and the base of the skull.

when he wakens, enraged by how easily he was taken down, she's got him cuffed to the shower, door closed and leaving a grimy pane of glass between them. " scream. go on. you have five seconds, then we need to get back on track. you were a little easier to handle than i expected. "

" you think he doesn't know where i am?! "

" no, babe, i know he does. it's what i'm counting on. i just need you to deliver a message for me. " she lowers herself to sit on a soft velvet stool. the second he opens his mouth, she twists around to pull the toilet chain. instantly, ice-cold jets of water spit from the shower head, dousing him as a stifled yelp leaps from his open mouth. " yeah. shit plumbing. explains the low rent, though, huh? anyway. the message. i want you to tell alec that i left. i'm no longer working for MI6. and i want a meeting. "

" the two of you are actually certifiable. why the bloody FUCK can't you just go be with him?! or leave him alone?! what's this bullshit of turning the world into a fucking chessboard?! "

" not an MI6 man, then? not CIA, not by the inability to follow orders. so an independent mercenary. makes sense. see, here's the thing, tom. you join something like MI6, or the CIA, and you learn a code. brotherhood is a sweet name for it. loyalty. but in the end, it's just blind faith. just assuming they give you the correct information, the truth, the honesty that you're obligated to give them. alec saw it way before i did, probably since before i ever got involved. i suppose... ever since we'd met, he'd been protecting me. he'd take the kill shot so i could go home with clean hands. he'd hold me when the nightmares had me caught. he went through so much just to keep me safe. it took me ages to see it. the lies, the deceit, the amount of times we were fucking abandoned. when i got the call from felix, he urged me to go. so then i was the one who abandoned him. he had to endure it all alone. when i'd come back, it was like watching him disappear bit by bit. you know what that does, tom? to a person? to watch the love of their life fade and transform and emerge completely different? "

" ...this is who he's always been. "

" doesn't matter. either he lied to me for all those years in the field, in the cabin, in our bed, or he's lying to me now. either way. the lies end here. tell him, tom, because i know he's enroute, i know it's only a matter of minutes. tell him to meet me in the cabin. alone. he knows better, after all. hallowed ground, if you like the religious metaphor. "

" i don't. "

" tough shit. " she yanks the toilet chain on the way out, and another onslaught of ice cold water hits him, causing a shriek to serenade her on her way out the door.

[martianbugsbunny]

Who Makes You See Color (A CaptainCroc Soulmates AU Fic): Chapter 13

Hello, darlings, you all are about to read one of my favorite chapters! This is the one where Killian finally gets his turn at being yeeten, so you Killian stans (folk of good taste, if I may say so) better gird yourselves. Bad news for any Rumple stans, though, because he’s also getting clobbered in this chapter. I’m just throwing bad life twists at my dudes left and right here. Tags: @wastingstarsss Have fun!

Gold woke up feeling…fine. His neck was sore from sleeping on the couch, but the low mood and general ache were both gone. He felt a bit foolish for calling off work, and wondered if he’s just been overreacting.

He decided not to call Roger in. After all, it wouldn’t really be fair to him to go back on a day off. Gold would rather work, though, and it might be nice to have the shop to himself again.

As he was walking to the shop, bundled into a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf, he passed by Doctor Whale. “Mr. Gold, if I might have a moment?” he asked, his voice shot through with the fear Gold associated with those trying to get an extension on their rent. He did own Whale’s apartment complex, yes, but as a doctor, Whale had never been one to fall behind on payments.

Gold didn’t really like Whale, and was loath to give him a second thought, and yet he stopped walking and gestured for him to get on with it.

“Roger Davies was recently brought into your employ, was he not?”

“He was.”

“Late last night he went into cardiac arrest. We were able to resuscitate him, but his condition is…not good. You should start looking for a new employee.”

Whale moved on, not having a clue what he’d just done. Gold stood there, numb, for a moment, processing what the doctor had said. Roger was too young to be having heart trouble. It didn’t make sense.

Gold shook himself out of his daze and wasted no more time getting to the hospital. Fortunately for him, he was well-feared enough that nobody dared to keep him from going to Roger’s side.

His condition was poor enough that he was in a room all by himself, not recovering in a group like the patients who had a chance. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the various machines that were hitched into his veins and shoved down his throat. After living in Storybrooke for twenty-eight years, most of which he had spent unaware that these machines were anything new to him, the medical devices used in the land without magic still frightened Gold. They seemed so invasive and unnatural—but if they could keep Roger alive, then they must be good.

“Roger, you don’t get to die,” Gold said. “Do you hear me? You’re going to see the curse broken, and I’m going to tell you how much I love you when you can understand what it truly means.”

Roger seemed alright, other than the machines. Gold hated when internal things went wrong; injuries where he could see blood or bruising made sense, they looked real. Internal wounds were mysterious and always seemed so out of the blue.

Maybe...it wasn’t really. Gold hesitated, then put his fingers to his own wrist. It was difficult for him to judge it accurately, so he took a deep breath and placed his hand over his chest. There. Buried beneath his own heartbeat was a second. The curse must be weakening; he hadn’t felt a second pulse since being brought to Storybrooke. (He probably would’ve thought he was insane, if he had.)

Roger’s heart—Killian’s heart—did know him, after all. His pain had found its way through their link and been subsumed. Gold shook his head. Killian Jones would’ve been able to withstand it; he, too, was immortal, and he, too, had been through a lot in his life. But Roger Davies had no clue about any of that. He believed that he was a simple, mortal man, and a mortal could never bear the pain of an eternal being. His heart knew well enough to take the pain, but his head knew little enough to be brought low by it.

“Damnit, Killian,” he sighed, squeezing Roger’s shoulder.

“Gold.”

Emma Swan stood in the doorway. She had been more confident, lately, and Gold had to admit she was a good sheriff. That might be a problem for him. “Yes, Miss Swan?”

“One of the nurses called. She said you forced your way into this patient’s room?”

Gold laughed quietly, shaking his head. “That may be a bit of an over exaggeration,” he said. “This patient is my—my employee, Roger Davies. I merely wanted to check on him. We’ve…become friends, in the past few weeks.”

Swan seemed to be testing her superpower on him. Her eyes narrowed. “Then why did you call him ‘Killian’ a minute ago?” she asked.

He couldn’t admit to believing Henry’s theory, even if it was the truth and he knew it. He was suspicious enough in general. “I believe you’re mistaken, Miss Swan,” he said. He put every ounce of Rumplestiltskin’s lying ability into that one sentence, hoping it would be enough to fool her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a shop to open.”

After that day, the shop was a less interesting place to Gold. He couldn’t look at a lamp without thinking of how carefully Roger cleaned it, or even at the windows without remembering how handsome Roger looked with his sleeves rolled up to scrub them. He developed a raw spot on his finger from twisting the ring Roger had given back to him, which he found himself doing whenever he missed Roger.

It was often.

His trips to the hospital were regular, but not too frequent, to avoid drawing attention from Sheriff Swan. He could hardly believe the way time seemed to just move on without Roger. It didn’t seem right. Gold’s world stopped for him, so why shouldn’t everyone else’s?

There was never a single day, in all that continuing time, when Gold visited Roger and didn’t repeat those three words. Roger might die without knowing it, Gold could never be sure, but he could at least try to make him understand.

[thelaundrybitch]

Charlie's Introduction

I've decided that I will be introducing her - and the rest of my OCs - exactly how she was introduced to me.

Y'all need to understand that Sunshine's laundry room is a permanent playground in my brain.

Unfortunately, these freeloaders are all living rent-free there atm.

Also!

**Disclaimer** Axel belongs to @shiftandshade, who lets me borrow her for Sunshine's sanity, and I appreciate the hell out of her for it 🫶🏼

ANYWAYS

I give you the newest monkey in my circus.

Charlotte Rose

"Well, well, well. What have we got here..."

The group of women seated at the table playing cards all spun to see a very tall, muscular, masculine-looking female had walked through the laundry room entryway. Sunshine jumped up with a dazzling smile with that incredible Sunny warmth pouring from her presence to greet the newcomer. The surprised brunette's eyebrows shot to the ceiling, and she couldn't help herself as her gaze dropped to eye Sunny like a tasty treat, a small flirtatious smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

But before Sunny could even get past Axel's reach, the mechanic was already up and standing between the two of them, giving this new woman a look of warning as she clenched and unclenched her jaw, hands balled into fists and ready to protect her heart.

"Alright. I hear you, blue. The ray of sunshine there is taken.

"Who are you." It was a demand. Everything about this woman screamed threat, and Axel was already calculating how fast she would need to move to grab the spare tire iron she had hidden behind Sunny's folding table to take this woman out if she decided to start any shit.

"Easy, huh? I'm not here for a fight."

"What are you here for?" Drese stepped up beside Axel, causing the mechanic to visibly relax. Drese was one of the strongest in the group and wouldn't think twice about shanking a bitch to keep her friends and family safe.

"I'm not sure, honestly. But I'm not here for trouble," the masculine woman reassured them, her hands up in a placating manner.

"Alright. Enough. She's not gonna hurt anyone. Not with J and Oak out back," Liv reminded them, not looking up from her phone that she was texting away on. The new woman's gaze scanned the table until they landed on the attractive blonde who was sitting on a barstool, legs crossed with her back leaning against the cement wall.

For the second time in ten minutes, the brunette's eyebrows raised, appreciating all the curves Liv had on display while sporting her new summer dress.

Seeing the sudden change in the new woman's demeanor, Axel smiled and let out a low chuckle, "Yeah. Good luck with that one," she said quietly before turning and escorting Sunny back to the seat Axel had previously been occupying. Sunny happily followed and parked her ass in her girlfriend's lap with a smooch.

"Have a seat," Liv said, motioning her head to the stool beside her, still pecking away at her phone.

"But first, are you gonna at least tell us your name?" Sunshine asked, wrapping her arm around Axel's neck and settling herself a bit closer.

All eyes were on the new woman as she completely ignored Sunny, making a beeline for the seat she had been offered. The brunette slid onto the stool next to Liv, eyes trained on the pretty blonde.

Liv's eyes moved from the screen to the dark blue eyes looking at her intensely. Liv's heart skipped a beat as she saw the woman for the first time. She was giving Liv a killer smile as she leaned in closer toward the blonde, a flirty eyebrow raised as her eyes flicked from Liv's eyes to her lips and back to her eyes again.

"Names Charlotte Hawthorne-Banyan. Friends call me Charlie."

MASTERLIST LINK

artwork by @leosgirl82 💖

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[sammusbird]

[Image ID: A warrior cats comic depicting the Reddit to Tumblr migration.

First panel: A deadpan white and orange cat representing Reddit users looks up and says, “AITA for seeking asylum in your territory for my clan? I (20) ask TumblrClan (16)- ”. There is a spiky gray-green blob in the back that could be an audience of cats watching, or trees and bushes behind them.

Second panel: Tumblrclan’s leader looks down silently from a tall stone. They’re dark blue, with two scratches over one eye forming the shape of the Tumblr logo. At the base of the stone is an extremely smug light blue cat, representing Twitter.

Third Panel: Zoom in on the Twitter cat’s face. They think, “It'll be great to see someone else- ”but are cut off by Tumblr saying, “Yeah sure.”

Fourth Panel: The same view of Twitter’s face, but as only a rough sketch and uncolored. They’re absolutely distraught, and question marks float around their head, along with the thoughts, “But?”, “Shots fired to keep the rent low…”, “Kungpow penis”, “Don't want you twittypets on our blessed site”, “Twittypet.”, “Back from whence you came, scum”, and “Kungpow Penis”. \End ID.]

Smooth Reddit to Tumblr integration event.